Memories of Saigon

When I first arrived in Saigon in 1972 a new office pastime had been added to the list of things to do on dull days outside 15 Han Thuyen. In addition to occasional cricket knockabouts in the park (bit tricky with the trees) and an overwhelming desire for a cigarette with office manager Pham Ngoc Dinh outside just at the time the girls floated past in their white ao-dai on their way home, we also had the serious task of palace-watching. Standing on the step with a pair of high-powered binoculars gave easy access to the comings and goings of official limos pulling in to President Thieu's palace. Is that Kissinger? Who is that with Bunker? What does Abrams want? Uh-oh, there's the French ambassador. Of course, Thieu himself fooled us all by using his American-supplied helicopter to come and go from a convenient roof-top helipad.

Oddly enough, I never made it into the palace until this year, as a tourist. The helicopter is still on the roof, the conference tables are still laid out, and most of the furniture is distinctly 1950s G-Plan. The basement has a display of memorabilia, including a rather basic-looking white Mercedes, and a pristine US Willys jeep. This, the sign next to it said, was an exact replica of the jeep Duong Van Minh, the last President of South Vietnam, had been driven in by his North Vietnamese captors to Saigon Radio a few blocks away to broadcast his surrender. Where, I asked a friendly Vietnamese Army veteran, was the original? Ah, he told my wife, when Big Minh and his escorts came out of the radio station after the surrender broadcast, they found someone had stolen the jeep. Some things never change.

Tragic to learn from Jimmy Pringle's piece [Of Viet Cong grand-daughters and lost colleagues] that they are pulling down Han Thuyen to make a shopping arcade and a block of luxury flats. I hope they're all haunted by mates and dear friends from the past. ■