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Viewing in 'Original' size recommended.
If the French colonialists in Saigon needed some downtime from the humidity and squalor of
Saigon in the 1950s, they drove 2 hours south to the Riviera of the Far East - 'Cap St. Jacques'. When I
arrived in 1967, for the first of three visits, it was again Vung Tau - the name it still keeps. Vung Tau 1967 was
certainly no longer the Riviera. 'Hunkered down' with my Infantry platoon in the sand hills along the shoreline just a few
miles north-east along the beach, I could see the lights of Vung Tau, and could dream of the Rest and
Recuperation 48 hour leave I never got to take. In my makeshift rubble 'foxhole', I surveyed in awe
the bombed out ruins of French villas, their exquisitely tiled kitchens and bathrooms strangely
beautiful in the roofless structures.
In 1991, when I made my third visit - in peacetime - I was so relieved to see the area being
restored to its former glory, and to wave back at the cheerful locals as they plied the roads to
market or school. Most of the young at this beach were born after 1974, and thankfully did not know that
at this place, I had initiated a deadly ambush some 24 years before.
The relentless tide had cleansed the beach,
as this post-war visit assuaged my heart.
All Images © Copyright Colin J. Clarke 2015. Please do not copy, reproduce, distribute or display without written permission.
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