There, he would later escort the hastily-appointed chief of state of South Vietnam, General Duong Van Minh, to announce the final ceasefire. He and fellow victors quietly puffed cigarettes. Dragonflies buzzed in the air. Twenty-five years after the victory that put an end to the Vietnam War, Ho Chi Minh City, as it is now officially known, is a stranger to silence. Gradually it has returned to what at heart it always was, a vibrant hub of enterprise, often illicit.
International hotels dominate the skyline and streets are clogged with motor scooters.
Looking back on the struggle, he likens Vietnam to a football field chosen by the Cold War powers. It is an explanation few northerners that took part in the war would accept. At that time, people didn't care about personal benefits or rewards, they only thought about the ultimate end - defeating . . . Most of those who were in service at the time speak of an overwhelming sense of pride tempered by grief for those who could not be there to relish the moment. However, the victory did not bring the glory that many expected.