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Book DescriptionPublication Date: July 10, 2013 Almost half a century ago, a young reporter from Germany arrived in still-glamorous Saigon to cover the Vietnam War over a period of five years. In this memoir he now tells the story of how he fell in love with the Vietnamese people. He praises the beauty, elegance and feistiness of their women. He describes blood-curdling Communist atrocities and fierce combat scenes he had witnessed. He introduces a striking array of characters: heroes, villains, statesmen and spooks, hilarious eccentrics, street urchins and orphans herding water buffalos. He shows how professional malpractice by U.S. media stars such as Walter Cronkite turned the military victory of American and South Vietnamese forces during the 1968 Tet Offensive into a political defeat. He mourns the countless innocent victims of the Communist conquest of South Vietnam, which was the grim consequence of its abandonment by the United States. Thus, he argues, the wrong side won. Finally, with the eyes on Afghanistan, he poses a harrowing question: Are democratic societies with their proclivity for self-indulgence politically and psychologically equipped to win a protracted war against a totalitarian foe? About the Author For 57 years, Uwe Siemon-Netto, an international journalist from Germany, has reported about major world events including the construction and the fall of the Berlin Wall and the assassination of President John F. Kennedy. He covered the Vietnam War over a period of five years, from 1965 until 1969 and then again in 1972. He has also written extensively about topics ranging from wine, food, classical music and modern art to religion. At age 50 he interrupted his career to earn an M.A. at a Lutheran seminary in Chicago and a doctorate in theology and sociology of religion at Boston University. His doctoral dissertation titled, The Fabricated Luther: Refuting Nazi Connections and Other Modern Myths, has been widely acclaimed as a resounding argument against the charge that the 16th-century German reformer could have been Hitler's progenitor. As part of his theological studies Siemon-Netto served as a chaplain to Vietnam veterans in Minnesota and wrote a significant book on pastoral care titled, The Acquittal of God: A Theology for Vietnam Veterans. Dr. Siemon-Netto now lives in southern California as a writer, educator and founding director emeritus of the Center for Lutheran Theology and Public Life in Capistrano Beach. Part of the year he and his British-born wife, Gillian, spend their time at their home in the Charente region of southwestern France.
His book was so colorful and vividly narrated that it gives a Vietnamese like me the nostalgic local color of the Saigon I used to know in my boyhood, deserving the apt descriptive French moniker La Perle d'Orient, with scenes and memories from the Continental Palace, the Majestic Hotel, La Pagode, Brodard, Rue Catinat, and the 5 o' clock folly official news-briefing at the Caravelle. And particularly Huế, the subtle and full of nuances ancient imperial capital. Read more › 2 Comments |  Was this review helpful to you? 4 of 4 people found the following review helpful5.0 out of 5 stars Should be read by every American July 11, 2013 By Allen Cates I could not put this book down. I quoted passages to my wife and found my voice quivering. A friend who experienced reeducation by the communists in Vietnam loaned the book to me. I would have gladly paid for it. At first I thought the author was fabricating, but I spent eight and one half years in south East Asia. Three and one half years in Vietnam and five years in Laos, first with the Marines and then with Air America. I did five years of research for my book Honor Denied. I can't verify every single fact, but I believe the author is authentic and credible.
I've read countess historical books on Vietnam, including the books the author mentions by Bernard Fall. This may be one of the best, and I believe Bernard Fall would have endorsed it without hesitation had he not been killed near Hue in the very place the author describes.
This is one of the few books on Vietnam that criticizes the apologists with eye witness accounts that cut to the soul and leave no doubt about authenticity. The atrocities that occurred in Hue in 1968 were described in a manner that made one shudder. I had to lay the book down a couple of times, but the detail was so explicit I was forced to pick it up again almost immediately.
The description of the women in Vietnam, their strength and vitality, and specifically the Vietnamese Ao Dai, the typical dress for women, with its combination of elegance, grace and sensuality is so real I could see it with my eyes closed. The truth about the fighting ability of the Vietnamese Marines during the Easter offensive in 1972 is also exposed. This is not the first book to do so, but it reinforces the opinion certain elite military units in South Vietnam deserve high praise for their gallantry and bravery in battle.
I want to correct one statement. Read more › Comment |  Was this review helpful to you? 3 of 3 people found the following review helpful5.0 out of 5 stars Vietnam alive July 17, 2013 By Cornelia Richardson Amazon Verified Purchase Excellent background and history of the Vietnam war as told by a reporter who was there. Important book for all students of history and anyone interested in this aspect of American foreign policy with numerous applications to the struggles going on today. An engaging and well written book which is a delight to read. Comment |  Was this review helpful to you? 3 of 3 people found the following review helpful5.0 out of 5 stars We fought the good fight July 16, 2013 By John S Vaci Captured here is the harrowing story our sweet boys and the lovely Vietnamese people caught between the parallel lines of communism and our duplicitous media. Our intrepid reporter weaves the tale of evil and betrayal in a moving account from his own experiences. I picked it up and could not put it down and will never forget that our finest helped the least of them while fighting the in the face of evil. Because of this book I have a better understanding of the war, the people and our country. I will never trust the Marxists or their media tools. The unanswered question raised by the author: "Can a peaceful republic gin up the stamina to fight the good fight over the long haul?", is clearly answered today in Afghanistan, Iraq, Iran and Syria. Comment |  Was this review helpful to you? 2 of 2 people found the following review helpful5.0 out of 5 stars A fascinating and important book July 16, 2013 By jack- a go player Uwe Siemon-Netto is one of the best journalists in Europe and America. This is perhaps his most important book. It is a Vietnam memoir like no other. Start reading, and you won't want to put it down. It is also of utmost timeliness, as Americans consider the import of our wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, not to mention newly unfolding tragedies in Syria and Egypt. Gerald R McDermott, Jordan-Trexler Professor of Religion, Roanoke College Comment |  Was this review helpful to you? 2 of 2 people found the following review helpful5.0 out of 5 stars One of the most critical books yet written about the Vietnam War July 10, 2013 By Richard S. Botkin Amazon Verified Purchase With relevance to American involvement today in Afghanistan, author and former journalist Uwe Siemon-Netto has produced an extremely personal narrative of his Vietnam War experiences. Spanning nearly the entire period of active American ground combat involvement, he arrived in Saigon in early 1965 and remained through 1969, returning again in 1972 to report on the ill-fated Nguyen-Hue Offensive; known in the West as the Easter Offensive.

Siemon-Netto's credentials, pedigree and background are impeccable, his personal observations priceless and uncanny. His witness to both the mundane and the extremes of war are ably displayed, as is his very obvious affection for the people of Vietnam and the warriors who fought to keep the communists at bay. Acknowledging the evil at My Lai, he likewise points out the too numerous to count episodes where both American and South Vietnamese fighting men risked life and limb to protect the innocents they were there to defend.

With a special empathy few could possibly have--Uwe was born just prior to the beginning of World War II in Germany and lived through the Allied bombings of his hometown which did not so accurately discriminate between civilian and military targets--he was on hand many times to chronicle the planned, systematic and utterly barbaric murders of entire families by both the Viet Cong (VC) and North Vietnamese Army (NVA) judged to be sympathetic to the Republic of Vietnam (RVN) government. He arrived in Hue in early 1968 only days after 3,000-5,000 civilians were slaughtered by the communists, an occurrence many on the Left today claim, like Holocaust deniers, never happened. Read more › Comment |  Was this review helpful to you? › See all 6 customer reviews (newest first) Advertisement

Đức

A reporter’s love for the wounded people of Vietnam
By Uwe Siemon-Netto

Đức is the Vietnamese word for German, and Đức was Uwe Siemon-Netto’s nickname during his time as a Vietnam War correspondent. Exactly four decades after America’s withdrawal from that conflict, Siemon-Netto has chosen Đức as the title for his book about his five years of covering the war for Germany’slargest publishing house.In the words of Peter R. Kann, the former publisher of the Wall Street Journal, “Uwe Siemon-Netto, the distinguished German journalist, has written a masterful memoir… He captures, as very few others have, the pathos and absurdities, the combat, cruelties and human cost of a conflict, which -- as he unflinchingly and correctly argues -- the wrong side won. “From the street cafes of Saigon to special forces outposts in the central highlands, from villages where terror comes at night to the carnage and war crimes visited on the city of Hue at Tet, 1968, Uwe brings a brilliant reportorial talent and touch.  Above all, Uwe writes about the Vietnamese people:  street urchins and buffalo boys, courageous warriors and hapless war victims, and the full human panoply of a society at war.  “As a German, Uwe had, as he puts it, ‘no dog in this fight’, but he understood the rights and wrongs of this war better than almost anyone and his heart, throughout the powerful and moving volume, is always and ardently with the Vietnamese people.”Bestseller author Barbara Taylor Bradford called Đức  “one of the most touching and moving books I have read in a long time. It is also hilarious… I did cry at times, but I also laughed.” Former UPI editor-in-chief John O’Sullivan, described Đức ” as an “angry account of a betrayal of a nation,” adding, “But there is hope about people on every page too.”Partly as a result of his Vietnam experiences, Siemon-Netto turned to theology, earning an MA and a Ph.D. in this field and writing a textbook on pastoral care to former warriors, titled, “The Acquittal of God, A Theology for Vietnam Veterans.”Written in English, Ducwill be available on Amazon.com by the end of May. It is also on offer in Vietnamese and a German edition is expected to be ready by early 2014. “This brilliant book reminds me of Theodore White’s In Search of History,” commented Maj. Gen. H.R. McMaster, author of Dereliction of Duty: Lyndon Johnson, Robert McNamara, the Joint Chiefs and the Lies that Led to Vietnam. “Uwe Siemon-Netto challenges facets of our flawed historical memory of the Vietnam War,” McMaster continued. In his epilogue, Uwe Siemon-Netto raises the timely question of whether contemporary democracies are politically and psychologically equipped and patient enough to fight guerrilla wars to a victorious conclusion. Citing the former North Vietnamese defense minister Vo Nguyen Giap’s assessment that they are not, Siemon-Netto observes in Đức with an eye on Afghanistan, “Even more dangerous totalitarians [than the Vietnamese Communists] are taking note today.”

Cronkite's Betrayal

Letter to the editor of The Wall Street Journal, Wed. 04/10/13

The Tet Offensive and Press Conduct
Reader George McKenna is right in citing Walter Cronkite as an example of how a new form of journalism gave distorted narratives due to liberal ideology (Letters, April 6). As a West German combat correspondent, I was with Peter Braestrup in Hue during the 1968 Tet Offensive. Like Braestrup, I stood at a mass grave filled with the bodies of civilians slaughtered by the Viet Cong; like Braestrup, I also witnessed the destruction of the VC as a fighting force. Like Braestrup, too, I was enraged when Cronkite declared the war unwinnable, thus prompting President Lyndon B. Johnson to remark, "If I've lost Cronkite, I've lost Middle America."

With that Cronkite betrayed the very principle of journalism he had once stood for, namely, that a reporter should report and not opine. Once an honorable war reporter himself, he thus placed himself at the head of the new narcissistic media movement dominated by self-important pundits. This was both Cronkite's personal tragedy and a catastrophe for journalism as an indispensable pillar of democracy—all democracies, not only America's.

Uwe Siemon-Netto

Laguna Woods, Calif.

FAITH MATTERS: On "gay marriage," consider natural law

UWE SIEMON-NETTO
<!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:Times; panose-1:2 0 5 0 0 0 0 0 0 0; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;} @font-face {font-family:Cambria; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria; mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";} p {margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ascii-font-family:Times; mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family:Times; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} </style>--> <br /><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: small;">It’s hard to say what is more depressing about the same-sex marriage madness: Is it the huge triumph of its proponents who have turned this into a human rights issue in the befuddled public mind? Or is it the profound inability of its opponents to argue in a coherent manner that would appeal not just to Christians but all people with commonsense and a sense of right and wrong?</span></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: small;">Take Bill O’Reilly, the incarnate proof that ignorance in areas where knowledge was once considered essential for being part of the educated class -- theology, philosophy, the law, logic and ethics, for example -- has become a formula for success in this era of massive media moronization.</span></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: small;">Here is O’Reilly’s opinion on whether homosexuals should wed:</span></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: small;">“<i>The compelling argument is on the side of homosexuals. That’s where the compelling argument is. We’re Americans. We just want to be treated like everybody else. That’s a compelling argument, and to deny that, you have got to have a very strong argument on the other side. The argument on the other side hasn’t been able to do anything but thump the Bible<b>.”</b></i></span></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: small;">O’Reilly is of course a child of the execrable Sixties; still, I wonder who taught him critical thinking in his Catholic school, at Boston University, my Alma Mater, and, Heaven help us, Harvard. Arguing irrelevantly that “gay marriage” should be a matter for the states to settle, he gets it wrong on virtually every point except one, which he articulates crudely and insultingly by calling it “Bible thumping.”</span></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: small;">He</span><span style="font-size: small;"> is right in as much as Christians are ill advised to argue in the public square on the basis of Scripture, which is meaningless to nonbelievers. But he doesn't know the real reason why what he calls Bible thumping makes no sense in this context;  it has not occurred to him that Christians would have an infinitely stronger argument if they appealed to natural law. It is to the shame of O’Reilly’s Catholic teachers in the nineteen sixties as much as many catechism instructors of today’s evangelicals, and most practitioners of the legal profession, that they have simply discarded natural law thinking, which had guided our and other civilizations for millennia. </span></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: small;">It is a catastrophe with enormous genocidal consequences that this universal ethical code no longer applies, to wit Roe V. Wade, which prompted the slaughter of 56 million unborn babies in the last 40 years. By and large natural law parallels Mosaic Law but is independent of it.  It is not part of what theologians call the <i>revelatio specialis</i> (special revelation), which is only found in the Bible. But it is definitely part of the <i>revelatio generalis</i>(general revelation) that has been given to all of humanity. It is what Martin Luther called the <i>lex inscripta</i>,<i> </i>the law written upon everybody’s heart, according to the Apostle Paul.</span></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: small;">You don’t have to be a Christian, a Jew or a Muslim to know that it wrong to suck the brains out of an unborn child’s head in order to make the skull collapse thus facilitating the little corpse’s removal from the mother’s womb.  You know it’s wrong because Natural Law is inscribed in your heart regardless of whether you are a Christian, a Buddhist, a Hindu or a nonbeliever, which is why there exists an <i>Atheist and Agnostic Pro-Life League</i>.</span></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: small;">By the same token, no belief system other than the tyrannical confusion governing the minds of declining empires would consider the physical union of two people whose parts don’t fit and who therefore cannot procreate a “human right.” Let these two negotiate other rights for themselves, but please don’t equate this with marriage and family, the keystone of any healthy society since time immemorial. Call marriage an order of creation, as Christians would, or call it just commonsensical, as the rest of mankind will affirm. Both are valid arguments. So why drag the Bible, which is holy to us, into the hyperbolic sewers of narcissistic politics?</span></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: small;">What the “gay rights” agitators demand is as insane as would be the claim of plumbers to the “human right” of being called dentists. It’s time to wake up, take a cold shower, shake ourselves and realize that this cannot be so, even if Fox commentators, who are supposedly of the side of the traditionalists, insist on the contrary.</span></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: small;">If Christian theologians wish to contribute to the survival of a sane and free system, they should urgently begin teaching natural law again: to the public in general and specifically to media stars such as O’Reilly and his entourage of beautiful blondes and brunettes, almost all with law degrees but apparently with scant knowledge of the <i>lex inscripta</i> governing human conscience. As for the rest of the mainstream media marching in ideological lockstep, allow me to sigh: God help them!</span></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: small;"> <style><!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:Cambria; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria; mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} </style></span></div>--> <br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Dr. Uwe Siemon-Netto, a veteran foreign correspondent, is director of the Center for Lutheran Theology and Public Life in Capistrano Beach, Calif.</i></span></div><div style="margin: 0.1pt 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></div>

Time to cut the Germans some slack?

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I am saying this not because of my country’s economic and therefore growing political prowess; that would be childish posturing. No, I am proud to be a German because of my compatriots’ admirably serene reaction to the relentless abuse leveled against them by those who mismanaged their own affairs and now expect to be rescued by the Germans who had managed their affairs well.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">Night after night, Germans see on television their chancellor portrayed as a born-again Hitler by a moronic rabble in the streets of Greece, Spain, Italy and Cyprus, and in some of major newspapers we read this as well. It hasn’t escaped the Germans’ attention that they were daily targets of hateful slogans during the election campaign in Italy, probably the one European nation they have traditionally loved the most. They know that Silvio Berlusconi, while still prime minister of Italy, publicly questioned the suitability of one of Chancellor Angela Merkel’s body parts for sexual purposes, using a word unprintable even in the German media and most definitely in the prim American press.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">Many German friends of mine admit in private that they find it hard to contain their annoyance when reading the inexorably hostile columns by New York Times contributor Paul Krugman, still, they manage to reign in their fury. Others, and here I include myself, are perplexed and saddened that even the conservative American media are curiously restrained in their support or, God forbid, admiration for Merkel’s solitary stamina in the face of a frightening international crisis her government has not caused.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">Why is it, I wonder, that I have read nowhere the long overdue profile of this Eastern German pastor’s daughter and scientist who, while holding Europe together in truly Herculean fashion, still goes shopping and fixes her husband’s breakfast and sandwiches before sending him off to work at Humboldt University in Berlin like the good German <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Hausfrau</i> she is? What happened to journalistic craftsmanship in America? Is there no writer left capable of tackling this fascinating topic tongue-in-cheek but with empathy and, by all means, critical mind? Personalities of much less human fascination receive more attention than she. Is this because she is, Heaven help us, a German?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">Have journalistic values become so warped that the industrious, the fiscally prudent and therefore powerful and successful are no longer deemed worthy of some slack? How come that when Europe’s plight is being mentioned on American talk shows everyday life in Germany or, for that matter, Austria, the Netherlands or Finland – the few sane ones in a madhouse – never seems to merit in-depth reporting? How is it that no American reporter goes around asking the average Hans Müller or Liese Schmidt how they feel about their invariable vilification in the streets of Athens and Nikosia, Madrid and Rome? </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">Do Hans, Liese, Otto or Helga boycott Greek or Italian restaurants in Frankfurt or Munich or pour Italian or Greek wines into the gullies of Hamburg or Berlin the way American innkeepers did with French wines when they felt that the United States was unfairly maligned by the French? Do Germans stay away from their beloved Italy at vacation time? Do they accost visitors or residents from Europe’s troubled south in Stuttgart or Cologne?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">The answer to all these last questions is a resounding “NO!” </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">And this is why, far from being a strident nationalist, I am very proud of this generation of Germans at this very moment.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 562.5pt; text-align: justify;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Uwe Siemon-Netto, the former religious affairs e</span></i><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">d<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">itor of United Press International, has been an international journalist for 57 years, covering North America, Vietnam, the Middle East and Europe for German publications. Dr. Siemon-Netto currently directs the League of Faithful Masks and Center for Lutheran Theology and Public Life in Capistrano Beach, California. </i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 562.5pt; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>

DUC: A Reporter's Love For a Wounded People

My new book, DUC - A Reporter's Love for A Wounded People, has received some stunning endorsements:

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This brilliant book reminds me of Theodore White's In Search of History. Duc is a compelling and elegantly-written memoir.  But it is much more than that.  Uwe Siemon-Netto challenges facets of our flawed historical memory of  the Vietnam War.  He exposes the false virtue of Vietnamese Communist forces  that brutalized innocents in their quest to impose their totalitarian system on the South Vietnamese people.  And he sheds fresh light and understanding on the experiences of those who endured thatbrutality, wartime reporters, and South Vietnamese and American troops as well as the interactions between them.
                                - Maj. Gen. H.R. McMaster, Ph.D.
Author of Dereliction of Duty:
Lyndon Johnson, Robert McNamara,
the Joint Chiefs and the
Lies That Led to Vietnam 

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          Uwe Siemon-Netto, the distinguished German journalist, has written a masterful memoir of his many years covering the Vietnam War.  He captures, as very few others have, the pathos and absurdities, the combat, cruelties and human cost of a conflict which – as he unflinchingly and correctly argues -- the wrong side won. From the street cafés of Saigon to Special Forces outposts in the central highlands, from villages where terror comes at night to the carnage and war crimes visited on the city of Hue at Tet, 1968, Uwe brings a brilliant reportorial talent and touch.  Above all, Uwe writes about the Vietnamese people: street urchins and buffalo boys, courageous warriors and hapless war victims, and the full human panoply of a society at war.  As a German, Uwe had, as he puts it, "no dog in this fight", but he understood the rights and wrongs of this war better than almost anyone and his heart, throughout the powerful and moving volume, is always and ardently with the Vietnamese people.
- Peter R. Kann, Pulitzer laureate 1972Former publisher of the Wall Street Journaland CEO of Dow Jones
         Uwe Siemon-Netto’s memoir about his years as a war correspondent in Vietnam is one of the most touching and moving books I have read in a long time. It is also hilarious. This renowned journalist, a longtime war correspondent for various German newspapers, made me both sad and happy. I did cry at times, but I also laughed. He took me on a splendid journey from Saigon to Hue and back again, always captivating me with his memorable talent and his unique way with engaging words and phrases. I couldn't get enough of his anecdotes about his little friends, a group of street urchins. They slept in his ramshackle car at night, protesting they were doing him a favor by guarding it. His vivid writing brings alive all kinds of unusual cosmopolitan "characters" he met, as well as the innocent victims and brave survivors of this war, in particular the everyday people of Vietnam. His genuine sympathy for the Vietnamese and his understanding of the war that engulfed them help to make this a powerful read.
- Barbara TaylorBradford. Author of A Woman Of Substance  and Secrets From The PastUwe Siemon-Netto, a reporter experienced but still young, German and so not naive about communism, arrived in Saigon to report the Vietnam War at its height. He fell in love with Vietnam and the Vietnamese. But he found Saigon to be a clubroom of armchair reporters, praising each other's idealistic dissent on the war, and followed the fighting into the countryside. There he found different truths -- the horror of the North Vietnamese massacre of young mothers dressed for the festival of Tet, the self-sacrifice of GIs and South Vietnamese troops, the heroic comedy of two WWII veterans -- a German and an English reporter -- bringing order to the chaos of resistance to a Vietcong attack. Every page has an eccentric or brave or charming or cowardly or villainous individual -- Vietnamese, American or European -- brought to life on it. Duc is an angry account of a betrayal of a nation. But there is hope about people on every page too.- John O’Sullivan, Executive EditorRadio Free Europe/Radio Liberty, 2008-2011Editor-in-Chief, UPI, 2001-2004Editor, National Review, 1988-2007It seems appropriate that this meaningful and poetic book written from well ingrained memories going back 40 plus years comes to our attention just as we prepare to celebrate and honor the hundreds of thousands surviving Vietnam veterans who were sent away to defeat communism only to come home abandoned and mistreated by the country that sent them into this hellish war. I had the great pleasure of supervising Uwe during his tenure at the St Cloud, MN Veterans Affairs Medical Center early in my career as a Clinical Psychologist treating combat veterans with PTSD. His earlier book The Acquittal of God helped many of our veterans overcome longstanding painful spirituality issues and this current release will certainly help my generation to better fully understand the horrifying mindset and trauma enforced upon a culture and people by their fellow countrymen.- James R. Tuorila, Ph.D., L.P.VFW Surgeon General, 2012-2013


Uwe Siemon-Netto’s account of the Vietnam War provides many new details and important insights. It is impossible to read the book without being reminded of Graham Greene's The Quiet American and Bernard B. Fall's Street Without Joy. It is beautifully written, relates very captivating stories and has been superbly translated into Vietnamese by Quy V. Ly and Hien Nguyen.- Col. (ret.)  Duong Nguyen, MC,Former Division Surgeon,1st Armored Division U.S. ArmyFormer captain, ARVN Medical Corps            Every reader will gain much from this book’s empathetic portrait of the countless tragedies the freedom-loving South Vietnamese suffered during and after the Viet Nam war, a war that still haunts many Americans who do not know or remember that their leaders, with the compliance of the American public, opted to enter this war with the commitment of protecting and saving the South Vietnamese from the Communist Viet Cong.  Uwe Siemon-Netto, a German war correspondent for five years in Viet Nam, shows, how Americans at home, unwilling to support their soldiers in a protracted war, together with their throw-away disposition, jettisoned their commitment.  They withdrew their forces, enabling Communists to slaughter millions in pursuit of “liberation,” a duplicitous term the new journalists, as social-advocates, a byproduct of the Viet Nam war, did not question.- Rev. Alvin J. Schmidt, Ph.D.Professor of sociology emeritus, Illinois College,and Lutheran pastor
In this captivating memoir of his time in South Vietnam, Uwe Siemon-Netto describes what that country was really like. Having served there as a U.S. diplomat at about the same time, I can thoroughly vouch for the accuracy of his observations. The book abounds in incidents and episodes amusing, heartwarming, heartbreaking, depressing, frightening and thought provoking. Uwe did not shun danger and witnessed some fierce combat, notably at the bloody1965 Ia Drang battle.He demonstrated both physical courage and the courage of his convictions, not hesitating to expose and condemn the Communist enemy regime as cruel and intrinsically evil. This was most dramatically illustrated by the notorious 1968 Hue massacre, which he depicts in detail. When Communist forces captured the old imperial capital of Hue during the Tet Offensive they came with prepared lists of leading citizens and foreigners whom they systematically executed. After the enemy was driven out, a mass grave with nearly 3,000 bodies was found, some buried alive.Uwe has rendered a useful service in bringing attention to this greatest atrocity of the war, which many in our media minimized. Throughout, Uwe demonstrates an abiding affection for and understanding of the Vietnamese people. He fittingly begins the book by noting it ”has been written in the memory of the countless victims of the Communist conquest in South Vietnam,” and then lists them. A word of note: when one begins to read this book, it is hard to put down.
- William Lloyd Stearman, PhD., DirectorWhite House National Security CouncilIndochina Staff, 1973-1976  Forty years ago at the time of this writing, Henry Kissinger - then America's secretary of state - shook hands with his North Vietnamese counterpart in Paris and signed the agreement that seemed to guarantee the long-awaited peace in Indochina ending the bitter war between North and South Vietnam. Prior to signing, Washington told Saigon not to worry. Should the Communists strike again, the United States would respond, immediately and rigorously.But, of course, this promise was not kept. Two years later, Hanoi attacked with massive conventional armed force, just as it had in the spring of l972. Then the South's valiant soldiers threw back the Communist assault. But in April 1975, South Vietnam fell to Communism, spawning hundreds of thousands of "boat-people" a large part of who found refuge in the United States while many others drowned.Throughout much of the Vietnam War, Germany's Axel Springer Verlag in Berlin, Europe's largest publishing house with dozens of magazines and papers, had relied on Uwe Siemon-Netto's splendid reporting for general and specialized coverage of the armed and political conflict in Vietnam.The Vietnamese called him Đức, meaning the German. Now he has chosen this nickname as title of his memoir. This fine book is the proclamation of "A Reporter's Love for a Wounded People," as its subtitle states. It wraps up a rare distinguished career in the trenches.
-  H. Joachim Maitre, former editor of Die Welt/Welt am Sonntag Brookline, Mass., March 2013I was a so-called "'68er," part of the rebellious youth movement of the sixties. In those days my knowledge derived largely from the media of the time. By reading Duc, I now realize this was insufficient to give me a real picture of the conflict. What has not changed, and was underpinned by Uwe Siemon-Netto’s  book, are my feelings about the cruelties and absurdities of war in general."- Wolfgang Drautz,Former Consul General of Germany, Los Angeles

 

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***
IN MEMORIAM
This book has been written in the memory of the countless innocent victims of the Communist conquest in South Vietnam, notably: 
            The hundreds of thousands of men, women, and children massacred in villages and cities, especially Hué;             The hundreds of thousands of South Vietnamesesoldiers and officials who were executed, tortured or imprisoned after the end of the war;         The millions who were driven from their country and the hundreds of thousands who drowned in the process;           The brave ARVN soldiers who fought on when all was lost, and their valiant generals who took their own lives in the end;              The young South and North Vietnamese conscriptswho died in this so-called war of liberation, which brought no liberty;             The 58,272 American, 4,407 South Korean, 487 Australian,351 Thai and 37 New Zealand soldiers who madethe ultimate sacrifice in Vietnam;             My German compatriots who were murdered by the VietnameseCommunists, notably Dr. Horst-Günther and Elisabetha Krainick, Dr. Alois Alteköster, Dr. Raimund Discher, Prof. Otto Söllner, Baron Hasso Rüdt von Collenberg and many others, who came as friends and paid for it with their lives.

UWE SIEMON-NETTO

 

Epilogue
The fruit of terror and the virtue of hope

                        More than forty years have passsed by since I paid Vietnam my farewell visit.  In 2015, the world will observe the 40th anniversary of the Communist victory, and many will call it “liberation.” The Hué railway station, where a locomotive and a baggage car left on a symbolic 500-yard journey every morning at eight, no longer qualifies as Theater of the Absurd. It has been attractively restored and painted pink. Once again, as in the days of French dominance, it is the most beautiful station in Indochina, and taxi drivers do not have to wait outside in vain. Ten comfortable trains come through every day, five heading north, five going south. Collectively they are unofficially called Reunification Express. Should I not rejoice? Is this not just as in Germany, where the Berlin Wall and the minefields have gone, and now high speed trains zoom back and forth between the formerly Communist East and the democratic West at speeds up to 200 miles an hour?

                        Obviously I am glad that the war is over and Vietnam is reunified and prosperous, that the trains are running, and most of the minefields cleared. But this is where the analogy with Germany ends. Germany achieved its unity, in part because the Germans in the Communist East toppled their totalitarian government with peaceful protest and resistance, and in part thanks to the wisdom of international leaders such as Presidents Ronald Reagan and George G.W. Bush, Chancellor Helmut Kohl, and Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev, and partly because of the predictable economic collapse of the flawed socialist system in the Soviet Bloc. Nobody died in the process, nobody was tortured, nobody ended up in camps, nobody was forced to flee.

                        There is an incomprehensible tendency, even among respectable pundits in the West, to refer to the Communist takeover of the South as “liberation.” This begs the question: liberation from what and to what? Was South Vietnam “freed” for the imposition of a totalitarian one-party state that ranks among the world’s worst offenders against the principles of religious liberty, freedom of expression, freedom of speech, freedom of assembly, and freedom of the press? What kind of liberation was this that cost 3.8 million Vietnamese lives between 1955 and 1975 and has forced more than one million Vietnamese to flee their country, not only from the vanquished South, but even from ports in the North, causing between 200,000 and 400,000 of the so-called boat people to drown?

                        Was it an act of liberation to execute 100,000 South Vietnamese soldiers and officials after the fall of Saigon? Was it meant to be a display of generosity by the victors to herd between one million and 2.5 million South Vietnamese to reeducation camps, where an estimated 165,000 perished and thousands more have sustained lasting brain injuries and mental health problems resulting from torture, according to a study by an international team of scholars led by Harvard psychiatrist Richard F. Molina?

                        Since the mid-1960s, political and historical mythographers in the West have either naively or dishonestly accepted Hanoi’s line that this conflict was a “People’s War.” Well it was, if one accepts Mao Zedong’s and Vo Nguyen Giap’s interpretation of the term. But the Saxon Genitive implies that a “People’s War” is supposed to be a war of the people. In truth, it wasn’t. Some 3.8 million Vietnamese were killed between 1955 and 1975. Approximately 164,000 South Vietnamese civilians were annihilated in a Communist democide during that same period, according to political scientist Rudolf Joseph Rummel of the University of Hawaii. The Pentagon estimated that 950,000 North Vietnamese and more than 200,000 South Vietnamese soldiers fell in combat, in addition to 58,000 U.S. troops. This was no war of the people; it was a war against the people.

                        In the all too often hypocritical rhetoric about the Vietnam War over the last 40 years, the key question has gone AWOL, to use a military acronym meaning absent without leave, and the question is: Did the Vietnamese people desire a Communist regime? If so, how was it that nearly one million northerners moved south following the division of their country in 1954, while only about 130,000 Vietminh sympathizers went in the opposite direction?

 Who started this war? Were there any South Vietnamese units operating in North Vietnam? No. Did South Vietnamese guerillas cross the 17th parallel to disembowel and hang pro-Communist village chiefs, their wives and children in the northern countryside? No. Did the South Vietnamese regime massacre an entire class of people by the tens of thousands in is territory after 1954 the way the North Vietnamese had liquidated landowners and other potential opponents of their Soviet-style rule? No. Did the South Vietnamese establish a monolithic one-party system? No.

                        As a German citizen, I had no dog in this fight, as Americans would say. But to paraphrase the Journalists’ Prayer Book, such as hardened reporters have hearts, mine was, and still is, with the wounded Vietnamese people. It belongs to these sublime women who can often be so blunt and amusing; it belongs to the cerebral and immensely complicated Vietnamese men trying to dream the perfect dream in a Confucian way; to the childlike soldiers going to battle carrying their only possessions – a canary in a cage; to young war widows who had their bodies grotesquely modified just to catch a GI husband and create a new home for their children and perhaps for themselves, rather than face a Communist tyranny; to those urban and rural urchins minding each other and water buffalos. What a hardened heart I had, it belonged to those I saw running away from the butchery and the fighting – always in a southerly direction, but never ever north, until at the very end there was no VC-free square inch to escape to.   I saw them slaughtered or buried alive in mass graves, and still have the stench of putrefying corpses in my nostrils.

                        I wasn’t there when Saigon fell after entire ARVN units, often so maligned in the U.S. media and now abandoned by their American allies, fought on nobly, knowing that they would neither win nor survive this final battle. I was in Paris, mourning, when all this happened, and I wish I could have paid my respects to five South Vietnamese generals before they committed suicide when the game was over that they should have won: Le Van Hung (born 1933), Le Nguyen Vy (born 1933), Nguyen Khoa Nam (born 1927), Tran Van Hai (born 1927) and Pham Van Phu (born 1927).

                        As I write this epilogue, a fellow journalist and scholar of sorts, a man born in 1975 when Saigon fell, is making a name for himself, pillorying American war crimes in Vietnam. Yes, they deserve to be pilloried. Yes, they were a reality. My Lai was reality; I know, I was at the court martial where Lt. William Calley was found guilty. I know that the body count fetish dreamed up by the warped minds of political and military leaders of the McNamara era in Washington and U.S. headquarters in Saigon cost thousands of innocent civilians their lives.

                       But no atrocity committed by dysfunctional American or South Vietnamese units ever measured up to the state-ordered carnage inflicted upon the South Vietnamese in the name of Ho Chi Minh. These crimes his successors will not even acknowledge to this very day because nobody has the guts to ask them: why did your people slaughter all these innocents whom you claimed to have fought to liberate? As a German, I take the liberty of adding a footnote here: why did you murder my friend Hasso Rüdt von Collenberg, the German doctors in Hué, and poor Otto Söllner, whose only “crime” was to have taught young Vietnamese how to conduct an orchestra? Why did you kidnap those young Knights of Malta volunteers, subjecting some to death in the jungle and others to imprisonment in Hanoi? Why does it not even occur to you to search your conscience regarding these actions, the way thoughtful Americans, while correctly laying claim to have been on the right side in World War II, wrestle with the terrible legacy left by the carpet bombing of residential areas in Germany and the nuclear attacks on Hiroshima and Nagasaki?

                        Reminiscing on her ordeal on the Ho Chi Minh Trail in the news magazine Der Spiegel, the West German nurse Monika Schwinn recalled her encounter with North Vietnamese combat units on their way south as one of her most horrifying experiences. She described the intensity of hatred in the facial expressions of these soldiers and wrote that her Vietcong minders had great difficulty preventing them from killing the Germans on the spot. Nobody is born hating. Hate must be taught. Fostering murder in the hearts of young people involved a teaching discipline at which only the school of totalitarianism excels. In his brilliant biography of SS leader Heinrich Himmler, historian Peter Longrich relates that even this founder of this evil force of black-uniformed thugs did not find it easy to make his men overcome natural inhibitions to execute the holocaust (Longerich. Heinrich Himmler. Oxford: 2012). It was the hatred in the eyes of the North Vietnamese killers in Hué that many of the survivors I interviewed considered most haunting. But of course one did have to spend time with them, suffer with them, gain their confidence and speak with them to discover this central element of a human, political and military catastrophe that is still with us four decades later. Opining about it from the ivory towers of a New York television studio or an Ivy League school does not suffice.

                        In a stirring book about the French Foreign Legion, Paul Bonnecarrère relates the historic meeting between the legendary Col. Pierre Charton and Gen. Vo Nguyen Giap after France’s defeat at Dien Bien Phu (Bonnecarrère. Par le Sang Versé. Paris: 1968).  Charton was a prisoner of war in the hands of the Communist Vietminh. Giap came to pay his respects to him but also to gloat. The encounter took place in a classroom in front some 20 students attending a political indoctrination session. The dialogue between the two antagonists went thus:

                        Giap: “I have defeated you, mon colonel!

                        Charton: “No you haven’t, mon general. The jungle has defeated us… and the support you received from the civilian population -- by means of terror.”

                        Vo Nguyen Giap didn’t like this answer, and forbade his students to write it down. But it was the truth, or more precisely: it was half of the truth. The other half was that democracies like the United States seemed indeed politically and psychologically ill equipped to fight a protracted war. This realization, alongside the use of terror tactics, became a pillar of Giap’s strategy. He was right and he won. Even more dangerous totalitarians are taking note today.

                        To this very day I am haunted by the conclusion I was forced to draw from my Vietnam experience: when a self-indulgent throwaway culture grows tired of sacrifice it becomes capable of discarding everything. It is prepared to dump a people whom it set out to protect. It is even willing to trash the lives, the physical and mental health, the dignity, memory and good name of the young men who were sent to war. This happened in the case of the Vietnam Veterans. The implications of this deficiency endemic in liberal democracies are terrifying because in the end it will demolish their legitimacy and destroy a free society. 

However, I must not end my narrative on this dark note. As an observer of history, I know that history, while closed to the past, is always open to the future. As a Christian I know who is the Lord of history. The Communist victory in Vietnam was based on evil foundations: terror, murder and betrayal. Obviously, I do not advocate a resumption of bloodshed to rectify this outcome, even if this were possible. But as an admirer of the resilient Vietnamese people, I know that they will ultimately find the right peaceful means and the leaders to rid themselves of their despots. It might take generations, but it will happen.

             In this sense, I will now join the queue of the pedicab drivers outside the Hué railway station where no passenger arrived back in 1972. Where else would my place be? What else do I possess but hope?

                      

                      

Marriage: A Dinner Menu in Reverse

Fiftieth wedding anniversary of Gillian + Uwe Siemon-Netto
  with Father Bruno Fèvre and Pastor Matthias Pankau Renewal of Vows at altar of the 11th century  Parish Church
of Gurat, France, on December 1, 2012


A sermon by MATTHIAS PANKAU
Grace, peace and mercy to you from God our Father, and the Lord Jesus Christ.
Dear Gillian and Uwe, dear friends,
Germans sometimes use a culinary metaphor for marriage, describing it as a dinner menu in reverse.The menu starts out as sweet as dessert. Then follows an enticing cheesy part occasionally culminating in the seven-year itch; add a fresh green salad for digestibility. Next you have the long and substantial, but hopefully delicious, main course, the very body of any good dinner as of the marital union. The subsequent fish course should be lighter, but can be fraught with the danger of lethal bones. If all goes well, though, this bill of fare will culminate in the cheerfulness of subtle hors d’oeuvres, when after mastering decades of temptation and strife, the couple is rewarded with the facility to go to bed at night with a loving smile, and to wake up in the morning still holding hands.
From what you have told me, dear Gillian and Uwe, this last menu item is the delight of your life together today. But as for the preceding dishes – boy, did the chef foul up! Or so it seems!
The sweetness of dessert was spoiled when the Cuban Missile Crisis of 1962 forced you to cancel your wedding in London. Unwed, you rushed to Uwe’s new posting in New York, where you were joined in holy matrimony exactly 50 years ago today in Immanuel Lutheran Church by a drunken pastor who almost missed this appointment.
There was no chance of the cheesy part of the seven-year itch to evolve because Uwe’s assignment to the Vietnam War separated the two of you for up to eight months per year and included the tragedy of the loss of your child due to a tubular pregnancy.
The pièce de résistance, the main course, consisted of more separation caused by tumultuous upheavals resulting from Uwe’s work as a roving international reporter.
The fish course should have been more digestible, but it included deadly bones that could have killed off the strongest marriage: I am referring to the loss of all your wealth, including your château next to this lovely old church, in a Lloyd’s of London scam.
Moreover, dear Gillian, finding yourself in the role of a lowly seminarian’s wife and suffering five years of hardship until Uwe completed his doctorate in theology at the age of 55 surely could not have corresponded to the life of glamour you were promised when you married this dashing foreign correspondent half a century ago.
And yet, here you are, still together, a loving couple, blended inseparably like Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot in a mellow Bordeaux wine and surrounded by faithful friends from all over the world. The outsider marvels: how is this possible after all the two of you have been through?
Dear Uwe: I have often heard you describe yourself as a radical sinner in radical need of the radicalGospel of Christ. You told me of your and Gillian’s deep conviction that He never left your side even in times of tribulations of a magnitude that made many others take their own lives.
What we are celebrating here today in awe is none other than a clearly discernible act of divine grace, the grace to which you owe Gillian’s enduring love and forgiveness. It was by grace, you keep saying, that you received this gift, not your own doing, and it is out of gratitude for this unfathomable gift of grace that you and Gillian have invited us to celebrate with you today.
Dear Gillian: I know how much you reciprocate Uwe’s conviction. We love you for that most of all. In the last 50 years you have confirmed the Apostle Paul’s words about Christian love in his First Letter to the Corinthians:
“Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude… Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things… Love never ends.”
This is your enormously powerful message to an increasingly darkening world where enduring love and faith are no longer the norm. I pray that the two of you will have many years together in this light-hearted hors d’oeuvres phase of your marriage to encourage the rest of us with your heart-warming example. Thank you, dear Gillian and Uwe! And thanks be to God!
And may our almighty and merciful God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, bless you and keep you. Amen !
Rev. Matthias Pankau is an editor of IDEA, a Protestant publishing house in Germany, and an ordained, unpaid pastor of the Evangelical-Lutheran Church of Saxony
+++ 
Prayer by FATHER BRUO FÈVRE



Father Bruno Fèvre (r) is the Catholic pastor  of Montmoreau, France.His huge parish includes Gurat and 71 other towns and villages. 

Trivializing Evil is a GOP Mistake

By UWE SIEMON-NETTO
It is disconcerting that probably the most compelling statement made in this year’s disagreeable U.S. election campaign has received virtually no public attention.
Bishop Thomas John Paprocki of Springfield in Illinois warned Catholic voters of planks in the Democratic Party Platform “that explicitly endorse intrinsic evils.” He meant abortion and same-sex marriage.
Bishop Thomas John Paprocki of Springfield, Illinois
Bishop Paprocki went on, “[A] vote for a candidate who promotes actions or behaviors that are intrinsically evil and gravely sinful makes you morally complicit and places the eternal salvation of your soul in serious jeopardy.”
This reference to the intrinsic and thus genuine nature of these evils should be a terrifying warning to every Christian and all people affirming the universal moral code called natural law. It should give pause to Republican strategists and conservative pundits who decided that in this year’s race economic issues trump everything, including the paramount concern over the sanctity of life.
It should pipe down the brash Anne Coulter who in a Fox talk show called Rep. Todd Aikin a “swine” because of his refusal to resign his candidacy for the Senate after breaking a 2012 GOP taboo with a clumsy statement; the taboo was abortion, a topic not to be mentioned lest even the last single woman vote for Barack Obama on Nov. 6.
The moral flaw of the stereotypical dictum that the economy supersedes the destruction of 55 million unborn babies since Roe v. Wade in 1973 becomes even clearer when I use an analogy which I know will get me into trouble: the reasoning of these GOP strategists reminds me of Germans who said after World War II: “Well, it was of course wrong of Hitler to kill all those Jews, gypsies and handicapped, but he did do good things, too, didn’t he? He was good for the German economy. He built autobahns and created jobs.”
To be clear: I am not questioning the importance of the state of the economy in this campaign, but to deem it more important than the mindless daily slaughter of the innocent is tantamount to making light of an ongoing genocide.
Webster’s Unabridged Dictionary defines the adjective, “intrinsic,” as “belonging to the real nature of a thing, not dependent on external circumstances.” Something intrinsically evil will not go away when you attempt to camouflage it with verbal dishonesty. The otherwise laudable Wall Street Journal, the commentators on Fox News, and assorted GOP spokesmen with the notable exception of the brave Sen. Rick Santorum and New Gingrich are consistently trivializing abortion as a “social issue.”
In my old-fashioned understanding, social issues, are the conundrums of whether you wear a dinner jacket or tails to a ball, or whether a worker is given two, three or four weeks of annual vacation. Abortion is something wholly other. In his book, Ethics, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the Lutheran theologian martyred by the Nazis and admired by many American liberals, wrote this about abortion:“Destruction of the embryo in the mother’s womb is a violation of the right to live which God has bestowed on nascent life. To raise the question whether we are here concerned already with a human being or not is merely to confuse the issue. The simple fact is that God certainly intended to create a human being and that this nascent human being has been deliberately deprived of his life. And that is nothing but murder.”
I am not a U.S. citizen and must therefore refrain from opining publicly on political issues of another nation, except when it involves intrinsic evils because these transcend national borders; they must be by definition everybody’s concern, as were the intrinsic evils of the Nazi and Communist regimes. That said, even common sense should tell us how unwise it is to sideline, for the sake of short-lived electoral gain, the annual slaughter of 1.2 million unborn or to elevate deviate sexual behavior to the level of matrimony.
If I read this year’s polls correctly, the Republicans are having problems with Latino voters, even though this predominantly Catholic or evangelical segment of the population holds moral values identical to those of white conservatives. Whether these conservatives have treated Hispanic immigrants wisely and well should be the topic of another story. But to tell a family-oriented people that the nation’s paramount ethical issue is of secondary importance amounts to inviting these voters to join the other side: What qualitative difference is there between affirming the culture of death and remaining indifferent to it? The Republican campaign  appears to confront the immorality inherent in the Democratic Platform with an amoral strategy; I fail to see any blessing in this.
Then there is the matter of the unwed women against whom the GOP is alleged to conduct a “war.” If the GOP had any guts it would challenge the ditsy mindset that seems to be prevalent among these females. I would ask them: “Do you really wish to define yourselves as women by your ‘right’ to kill your children? Don’t you recognize the frightening light the ‘war on women’ rhetoric sheds on all of you? Are you sure you want to take part in a war on babies?”
Punchy questions like these might not persuade the most stubborn devotees of the culture of death but perhaps shock enough unmarried women into enough sense of ethical reality to give Mitt Romney the percentage points he needs to be elected. However, this would presuppose of Republican candidates and strategists that they possess a quality Dietrich Bonhoeffer called civil courage.
Frankly, I don’t see it, and hence I fear that, to paraphrase Bonhoeffer, a “great masquerade of evil” will go on playing “havoc with all our ethical concepts.” Let nobody later say he didn’t know. The Roman Catholic bishop of Springfield has just warned us in the starkest possible terms when he spoke of intrinsic evils.
Uwe Siemon-Netto, the former religious affairs editor of United Press International, has been an international journalist for 55 years, covering North America, Vietnam, the Middle East and Europe for German publications. Dr. Siemon-Netto currently directs the League of Faithful Masks and Center for Lutheran Theology and Public Life in Capistrano Beach, California.

Đức, Đức & Đức

Prospective cover of a new book expected to be published in the winter of 2012

Preface

Đức was a spindly leader of a gang of homeless kids roaming the sidewalks of “my” block of Tu Do Street in Saigon. We met in 1965 when Tu Do, the former Rue Catinat, still displayed traces of its former French colonial charm; it was still shaded by bushy and bright green tamarind trees, which would later fall victim to the exhaust fumes of tens of thousands of mopeds with two-stroke engines and prehistoric cars such my grey 1938 Citroen 15 CV Traction Avant, the “gangster car” of French film classics. This car was nearly my age, a metric ton of elegance on wheels -- and very thirsty; eight miles were all she gave me for a gallon of gasoline, provided her fuel tank had not sprung a leak, which my mechanic managed to seal swiftly every time with moist Wrigley gum harvested from inside his cheeks.As you will presently see, my friendship with Đức and my love for this car were entwined. In truth, it wasn’t really my car. I had leased it from Josyane, a comely French Hertz concessionaire who, as I later found out, was also the agent of assorted Western European intelligence agencies, including the BND, Germany’s equivalent of the CIA. I had often wondered why Josyane rummaged furtively through the manuscripts on my desk when she joined my friends and me for “sundowners” in Suite 214 of the Continental Palace. I fantasized that she was attracted by my youthful and slender Teutonic looks and my stiff dry martinis. She never let on that she read German; why would she want to stare at my texts if they were incomprehensible to her? Well, now I know: She was a spook, according to the Dutch station chief, possibly one of her lovers. But that’s alright! I loved her car and she loved my martinis, which she handed around with amazing grace, and she was welcome to my stories anytime; after all, they were written for the public at large.But my mind is wandering. Let us return to Đức. He was a droll twelve-year old with a mischievous grin reminding me of myself when I was his age, a rascal in a large wartime city.  True, I wasn’t homeless like Đức, although the British Lancaster bombers and the American Flying Fortresses pummeling Leipzig night and day during the final years of World War II tried their best to render me that way. Like Đức, I was an impish big-town boy successfully bossing other kids on my block around. Đức was different. He was an urchin with a high sense of responsibility. He protectively watched over a gang of much younger orphans living on Tu Do between Le Loi Boulevard and Le Than Ton Street, reporting to a middle-aged Mamasan headquartered on the sidewalk outside La Pagode, a café famed for its French pastries, and the renowned rendezvous point of pre-Communist Saigon’s jeunesse dorée. Mamasan was the motherly press tycoon of that part of the capital. She squatted there outside La Pagode surrounded by stacks of newspapers: papers in Vietnamese and English, French and Chinese; the Vietnamese were avid readers. She handed them out to Đức and his wards and several other bands of children assigned to neighboring blocks.From what I could observe, Đức was Mamasan’s most important lieutenant, the head paperboy at the busiest end of his block.  His turf was the sidewalk between Givral, a restaurant renowned for its Chinese noodle soup as well as the most authentic French onion soup in all of Southeast Asia, and the entrance to the shopping passage in the Eden Building, which housed the consular section of the West German embassy at that time and the offices of the Associated Press. I fancy that I was one of Đức’s favorite clients because I bought the Saigon Daily News and the Vietnam Guardian from him every day, and the Saigon Post and the Journal d’Extrème Orient. Sometimes I allowed him to cajole me into paying for a couple of Vietnamese-language papers; not that I could read them, but I was intrigued by their frequent empty spaces, the handiwork of government censors.One late afternoon at the onset of the monsoon season, Đức and I became business partners. The massive clouds in the tropical sky were about to burst. Sheets of water threatened to descend on me with the force of a guillotine blade transforming Saigon’s principal thoroughfare into a gushing stream. I hastily squeezed my Traction into a tight parking space outside Givral’s, a muscle-building exercise given that this front wheel-driven machine lacked power steering and was propelled by a heavy six-cylinder motor made of cast iron. Exhausted, I switched off the engine by which time I was lusting for a bottle of Bière Larue on the Continental Palace’s open-air terrace when Đức stopped me. The old Traction’sfront doors opened forward, thus in the opposite direction of the doors of all modern cars. As I tried to dash out, Đức stood in my way pointing at the windscreen sticker I had been issued that morning by my embassy. It bore the German national colors, black, red and gold, and identified me as “Báo Chí Đức,” a German journalist. This was meant to protect me in case I ran into a Viet Cong roadblock on my occasional weekend jaunts to Cap Saint-Jacques, now called Vũng Tàu, a seaside resort once known as the St. Tropez of the Far East. It actually did shield me in those days. Whenever I ran into a patrol of black-clad Communist militiamen, they would charge me a toll and let me go, but not before issuing me a stamped receipt. “You Đức!” he shouted delightedly. “My name Đức. We both Đức. We like brothers!” We shook hands. Now I had a younger brother in Saigon; later I learned that his remark meant even more: it was wordplay.  Đức is also the Vietnamese word for virtuous. Having established our bond, he wouldn’t let me go, though. “Okay, okay,” he said. “Rain coming, Đức, rain Number Ten.” I knew Saigon street jargon well enough to realize that my new brother wasn’t talking of the tenth rainfall. No, “number ten” meant the worst, the pits, something definitely to avoid.“Okay, okay,” Đức continued. “You Đức, you Number One (the best). You and I do business, okay?”          Then he outlined our deal: I was to allow him and his wards to seek shelter in my Traction. It would become their bedroom, which they promised to keep immaculately clean. If I wanted to leave any valuables in the car, they would be safe. Its lock no longer worked; this much Đức had already ascertained.“Okay, okay, Đức?” he pleaded impatiently.I nodded. He whistled, and at once eight toddlers rushed out of several doorways and piled into my Traction. Three curled up on the back seats, two on the jump seats, one each in the legroom separating them, one girl took the right front seat, another squatted on the generous floor space under her feet, and Đức naturally took his place behind the steering wheel.“Bonne nuit, Đức, you number one!” he said, slamming the door and winding up the window. At this moment a torrent of rain poured down on the Traction and on me. The kids were safe. I was drenched to the bones within seconds. I ran into the Continental, needing more than a Larue. First I had a shower in my room, then a whisky on the terrace. As night fell I kept staring across Tu Do Street at my large Citroenwith steamed up windows outside Givral’s. This sight pleased me. These children were warm and dry. In all my years in Vietnam I rarely felt as happy as on that evening, an uncommon sensation in a reporter’s life.I am dedicating this book to Đức because in my mind he personifies qualities that formed my affection and admiration for the people of South Vietnam, and my compassion for them after their abandonment by their protectors and their betrayal by some, though not all, members of my profession. Like Đức, they are feisty and resilient; they don’t whine, but pull themselves up by their bootstraps, and they care for each other. When they are down, they rise again and accomplish astonishing things. I am in awe of the achievements of the hundreds of thousands of South Vietnamese living and working close to my home in southern California. I am full of admiration for those former boat people and survivors of Communist reeducation camps, those former warriors suffering in silence from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and other severe ailments caused by torture and head injuries received in combat.I hope that Đức’s adolescence and adulthood turned out to be a success story as well, but I don’t know. We lost contact a couple of years after our first encounter. Was he drafted into the South Vietnamese army and eventually killed in combat? Did he join the Vietcong and perhaps die in their service? Was he among the thousands of civilians butchered by the Vietcong during the Têt Offensive of 1968? Or did this crafty kid manage to flee his homeland after the Communist victory of 1975? Perhaps he is alive at the time of this writing is a successful 58-year old businessman or professional in Westminster, California, just up the road from me; perhaps he is reading this book. I thought of Đức when two wonderful Vietnamese friends invited me to address a convention of former military medical officers of the South Vietnamese Army. They had been urging me for some time to write my wartime reminiscences. “Do it for us,” they said, “do it for our children’s generation. They want to know what it was like. You have special credibility because as a German you had no dog in this fight.” Then, after listening to my anecdotes such as the one about my encounter with Đức,several of those retired physicians, dentists and pharmacists in my audience said the same thing, and some bounced my speech around the Internet.I do not presume to rewrite the history of the Vietnam War or even give a comprehensive account of the nearly five years I spent in Indochina as a correspondent first of the Axel Springer group of German newspapers and subsequently as a visiting reporter of Stern, an influential Hamburg-based magazine. I beg my readers not to expect me to take sides in the domestic squabbles between South Vietnamese factions, quarrels that are being perpetuated in the huge communities of Vietnamese exiles today. When I mention former Vice President Nguyen Cao Ky, for example, this does not mean that I favor him over former President Nguyen van Thieu, or vice versa; I am just here to tell stories, including some about Ky and some about Thieu, without wishing to pass judgment on either. Theirs was an unenviable lot, and they deserve my respect for having taken up an appalling burden.But there is something I wish to make clear: I did not welcome the victory of the Communists in 1975. I did not believe they deserved this triumph. I have been a witness to heinous atrocities they committed as a matter of policy, a witness to mass murder and carnage beside which transgressions against the rules of war perpetrated on the American and South Vietnamese side  –- clearly not as a matter of policy or strategy – appear pale in comparison. I know that many in the American and international mass media and academe have unjustly, gratuitously and arrogantly maligned the South Vietnamese and are still doing so; I almost exploded in anger when even I heard Bill O’Reilly, by no means a card-carrying liberal, refer to the Saigon leadership on Fox television as, “those corrupt clowns.” I was disgusted by the way returning GIs were treated by their fellow countrymen and am shocked by the fact that the continued suffering of South Vietnamese veterans is not deemed worthy of consideration by U.S. journalists.This book is a collection of personal sketches of what I saw, observed, lived through and reported in my Vietnam years. It is a series of alternating narratives about experiences ranging from the horrific to the absurd, from glamorous to frivolous pursuits, from despair to hope. But to remind my readers and myself that this is ultimately a book about a tragic war that ended in defeat for the victims of aggression, I will insert a brief reflection underscoring that effect every few chapters, beginning with a description of a mass murder the Communists committed during the 1968 Têt Offensive.I owe gratitude to many people: the absent Đức, my Vietnamese family in Orange County, Quy and QuynhChau, better known as Jo, and her sister Tran and Tran’s husband Di Ton That, as well as the countless Vietnamese, American, French, British and German friends I made in Vietnam. I also wish to thank the Vietnam veterans whom I served as a chaplain intern at the VA Medical Center in St. Cloud, Minnesota, and the psychologists and ministers with whom I worked in order to provide those former soldiers with pastoral care. There is my friend and editor Peggy Strong, and there is, first and foremost, Gillian, my wife of 50 years who has stood by me and endured our long periods of separation caused by my assignment to an enchanting war-torn country I have come to love.
                                                                                            Uwe Siemon-NettoLaguna Woods, Calif., October 2012.