
Today, there are nearly 100,000 U.S. soldiers hiking around the dusty villages of Afghanistan, battling a tenacious insurgency. Winning "hearts and minds" is once again the order of the day for the U.S. military. The war may have moved to the other end of Asia, but in thinking of the Afghanistan war, I find myself returning to the lessons I learned as a young man in Vietnam.
I was not a soldier during the Vietnam War, but one of four State Department civilians working for the U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID) in our province, Binh Long, 60 miles north of Saigon. We were the counterinsurgency workers, the "hearts and minds" guys, a mixture of young do-gooders fresh out of college, midcareer Foreign Service officers, and a great many random misfits: men escaping nagging wives and boring jobs, adventurers, boozers, soldiers of fortune, profiteers, ex-military personnel hooked on war.
If one were to conduct a survey of the civilians plying their trade in Afghanistan today, I do not doubt that it would consist of a similar mix of people. We worked in the villages so that the Vietnamese people would side with us, not the enemy. We thought we could win the war by being nice.
What we learned was that "nice" has a variety of meanings in wartime. The day after the battle of Loc Ninh, in October 1967, we visited a village that had been hit by friendly fire. The village, 40 or 50 thatch and stone homes set close together and connected by dirt paths, spread down a gentle slope below us in the bright morning sun. It was impossible to imagine anything bad happening in this pastoral landscape. I took the door gunner's helmet, spoke to the pilot, and pointed to a clear area at the top of the rise. The pilot nodded and eased the chopper down as gently as setting a teacup and saucer on a side table.
The villagers told us no one had been killed or injured by the errant gunfire; three houses, however, were destroyed. We promised to bring aluminum roofing sheets, bulgur wheat, rice, old clothes from Catholic Relief Services, CARE packages -- the usual stuff. We got back on the chopper and flew over to Loc Ninh, where the main battle had taken place.
That evening back in An Loc, the provincial capital, one of the many spies working in our province sidled up and said "Got a report."
"Yeah?"
"That village today?"
"What?"
"Squad of VC there. Said, 'We want to kill these Americans.' People said, 'No, don't; they're just here to help us.'" The spy jerked his head up, grunted a half-laugh, and turned for the Special Forces club. The villagers had saved our lives.
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