A Dragon Lives Forever
War and Rice in Vietnam's Mekong Delta
by
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Chuong Thien Province, 4 June 1988 I’m stunned. I struggle for the right words, then simply ask, "Why didn’t you kill me, Tu Rang?" "Because you brought the new rice seeds, and our farmers needed them." "But did you know I was an army officer?" "Of course. Your civilian clothes didn’t fool anyone." The former Viet Cong and I look into each other’s face, something we never did eighteen years ago. He’s smiling, but he’s hard – it shows. He’s also telling the truth. I can sense it. "I was less than a kilometer away whenever you traveled this canal in 1969," Tran Van Rang says. Today, Tu Rang is vice-chairman of the Vi Thanh People’s Committee. But two decades ago, he was the Viet Cong political officer for this zone. I know that political officers held ultimate power in the Communist infrastructure – they gave orders to military commanders. "You were entering my territory when you came here," Tu Rang continues. "The local farmers all supported the Revolutionary Forces, and reported on you. But intelligence officers were my main target." This trip is getting heavy, I think as our sampan cuts north through the muddy waters of the Xa No Canal. "I didn’t kill you because of the new rice seeds." New rice seeds. To me, they’re one of the world’s most powerful tools for peace. That’s why I made the green revolution my profession. But I learned about those seeds here, in the midst of carnage. Had there been no Vietnam War, rice wouldn’t be my life. Now I must face a new reality; those rice seeds probably saved my life. It’s 4 June 1988, and we’re in Hau Giang Province, one hundred and fifty miles south of Ho Chi Minh City. But to me, it’s still 1969 and this is a terrible place called Chuong Thien Province. Palm trees arch over the canal and thatch houses line each side. A green carpet of rice fields shimmers endlessly in both directions. The waterway is a kaleidoscope of color. That bothers me, but why? The women rowing the sampans wear bright red, yellow, or blue blouses over blank pants. The colors contrast beautifully against the cafe au lait waters of the canal and the shimmering palms and emerald rice. Then it hits me – the colors. The lower Mekong Delta is beautiful and peaceful – but I remember it as ugly, dangerous, and one of the most tragic places on earth. We’ve just passed Duc Long. I remember friends being killed in a sampan north of this village, and Tu Rang must have ordered the ambush. I know I’m safe, but I never traveled this canal without an M-16. I had thought a lot about my first return to Vietnam since the war ended. What would it be like? I never imagined that my hosts would be local VC from t hose days – who would remember me. I’m not the first American veteran to go back. But I may be the only one who has returned to an area as remote as Chuong Thien Province. ]"Has any other American been here since the war?" I’d asked earlier. My question was translated by Dr. Vo Tong Xuan, vice-president of the University of Can Tho. Xuan did his M.S. and Ph.D. work at the International Rice Research Institute in the Philippines. That’s where I’d worked since 1973. We’re old friends, and Xuan arranged this trip to show me rice production in the Mekong Delta today. Why did I ask to inspect rice in the old Chuong Thien Province? "No, you’re the first foreigner – of any nationality – to be in the lower Ca Mau Peninsula since 1975." I can do it only because I work with rice.
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About the Book
The U.S. was pulling troops out of Vietnam in June 1969 when First Lieutenant Thomas Hargrove reported as an advisor to the South Vietnamese Army in Chuong Thien, one of the most backwater and dangerous provinces in the Mekong Delta. He was an Infantry officer, but also a West Texas cotton farmer with advanced degrees in agricultural science. Hargrove was soon teaching Vietnamese farmers to grow a miracle rice from the Philippines that tripled production. But as an Army lieutenant, he routinely had to call B-52 strikes on the same farmers who planted those rice seeds. War and peace. Working with both was hellish. The pacification program was meant to win hearts and minds. But blood mingled freely with those vital organs in Chuong Thien. Two decades later Hargrove returned twice to the former Chuong Thien province. His hosts were former Viet Cong who had known – but did not kill – Hargrove because he brought the new rice seeds. Hargrove writes of a different kind of war that few Americans knew-- of how it led to a career in the Green Revolution-- of being drawn back to those terrible rivers and swamps where it all began.
About the Author
Thomas R. Hargrove was raised on a West Texas cotton farm. He received a double B.S. in agricultural science and journalism from Texas A& M University. His M.S. and Ph.D. are from Iowa State University. Hargrove served as an officer in the U.S. Army 1968-1970, including one year in Vietnam. That experience catalyzed his career in international agriculture, specializing in rice. From 1973 through 1991, Hargrove served the International Rice Research Institute, Philippines. During that time he wrote that book The Mysteries of Taal: A Philippine volcano and lake, her sea life and lost towns. In 1992, Hargrove joined the international Center for Tropical Agriculture, based near Cali, Colombia. In 1994, he was kidnapped by Colombian narco-guerrillas and held hostage for eleven months. That experience led to his book Long March To Freedom: Tom Hargrove’s Own Story of His Kidnapping by Colombian Narco-Guerrillas, which is also available from 1stBooks Library. Long March inspired the Warner Bros. movie Proof of Life. In 1995, he and his wife Susan returned to the United States. He now works as an editorial consultant and is editor and partner for
In 1988, Hargrove received the ACE Professional Award, the highest honor given to a single communicator by Agricultural Communicators in Education, a 700-member professional society based in the USA. In 1997, Texas A&M inducted Hargrove as the first honoree in its Journalism Hall of Honor.