Walter Cronkite, reporting from the war.
If, as is generally assumed, Ken Burns works from a liberal bias, my litmus test for him was to see how he might address the murky issue, long debated, of what John F. Kennedy might have done had he lived. He had brought the first military advisors into the war. How much further would he have gone? Far from giving JFK a pass, the answer comes through with stark clarity when we see him declaring to a close advisor that the war is unwinnable, but that he is not ready to pull the troupes (which could have saved countless lives), not until after the upcoming elections. Kennedy feared that such an action would doom his re-election hopes.
This sobering revelation lowered further my once idyllic regard for the young charismatic president from Camelot. Sadly, I am forced to see him as only another self-serving politician like the rest of them. They all lied through their teeth.
With this one segment, Ken Burns gained my trust and had me for the rest of the way.
Still, the rest of the way to many Vietnamese Bay Area locals, former generals among them, felt more like a Ken Burns betrayal, they complained to the media. They feel that their valor and participation was unfairly downplayed.
There are scenes of horrifying brutality, of the heartless, chaotic slaughter of so many innocents in the battle zones, of children and mothers being mass executed by soldiers gone mad. Of the Vietnamese at war with each other. Of a succession of corrupt politicians (aka: American presidents) who placed careers and ego above leveling with the American people. Shame on them all. We are taken into the heart of a particular darkness, of a civil war not our own. There is no doubt in my mind that we went over there to fight the communists. The Vietnamese happened to be in the way.
For, once we gave up – another revelation for me — we turned our backs on promises made to the South Vietnamese. Heartbreaking are scenes of them waiting for American air power to counter the invasion of the Viet Cong, two years later, as they had been promised by Richard Nixon to expect. It was part of an exit agreement. To see them waiting patiently in vain for their long-gone protectors to return is painful. One of many moments that brought tears to my eyes. Surely, this was not American exceptionalism on parade.
Another issue that moved me — actually enraged me as it did at the time — was the ugly contempt shown returning Vets by young American protestors without a shred of common decency in their stoned-out heads. How vividly I recall this disgusting spectacle of unconscionable ingratitude.
.
When will we ever learn, goes the familiar song in the background – part of an inspired soundtrack of pop songs of the time, and how vividly they capture the atmosphere of those days.
My Enemy, My Friend
Many years pass. Returning vets go back to the country to visit and reminisce, hoping to find soldiers they once fought alongside, and open, as well, to the forgiving arms of those they once opposed on the battle fields. Friend or foe then, they embrace now. Tearing eyes radiate humanity’s noblest reach. The perfect ending.
Such a terrible tragic waste. Yes, when will we ever learn?
This is a monumental work of documentary art. A shining moment for PBS, and for the giant at the helm.
Thank you, Ken Burns, and thank you, Lynn Novick.
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Henry and Christine, a Chinese couple from Vietnam, lived across the hall for about four years.
How warm a presence they were: She would sometimes gently knock on my door, offering a treat of some sort. And I, likewise, would take them things.
When I learned, a few months ago, that they were moving to an independent living facility, I was crushed. Henry needs more friends and a safe space in which to walk. Christine flourishes, as does their son in Southern California, who manages his own computer-related firm.
I called Christine to tell her about the Vietnam War on the night it began. Not sure if she watched, judging by her muted reaction, nor if I will bring up the subject. I have no idea what their lives were like during the war. I would deem it insensitive to ask.
Their departure felt like a death in the family. It took me weeks to get over. How I miss their sweet spirit, still.
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