By Roderick Eime, Courier Mail
An often overlooked minor seaport on Vietnam’s eastern shore is no stranger to momentous events.
Sunrise on the beach in Qui Nhon (Courier Mail)
Bob Hope leant on his trademark golf club and surveyed a sea of green uniforms: “These marines have a great history – they’ve landed on more beaches than Frankie Avalon and Annette Funicello.” The laughter rose perfectly on cue.
It was Christmas 1967 and 30,000 US servicemen were packed into the Phu Cat air base just outside Qui Nhon (also spelt Quy Nhon) on the northeast coast of South Vietnam. Les Brown and his Band of Renown played up a storm, while Raquel Welch go-go danced the homesick and battle-weary GIs into a frenzy with her white knee-high boots and blue pastel miniskirt.
For most of that time, the capital of Binh Dinh Province, Qui Nhon, was a rough and muddy fishing port parked into a tiny bay and skirted by the most delightful beaches. Distant hills embraced the Cham temple-dotted landscape that looked out across the South China Sea to the east.
All that changed in mid-1966. As the ferocity of fighting in Vietnam increased, the US built a 3km-long airstrip and moved in thousands of personnel to run the forward air base. At its peak in 1968, more than 100 aircraft operated from Phu Cat, flying dangerous missions into North Vietnam.
For the majority of this time, the base enjoyed a relatively peaceful existence. There were jobs for the locals and even schools and parties for their children. Apart from the two blockbuster Bob Hope USO (United Service Organisation) Christmas shows, the base personnel would head into town for R&R. Sure, there were the predictable attractions for lonely young men and one story tells of an enterprising mayor who turned his official residence into a private “club” for US officers. Even with such distractions, many took time out to explore the massive Cham temples and pagodas rising from the plain that so intrigued them from their own prominent, hastily erected watchtowers. The ancient Thap Doi Cham Towers in the middle of Qui Nhon township are the most obvious, and the pair of enormous ornate brickwork pillars rise up from a quaint and grassy little park. The overgrown, mute pillars only hint at the long vanquished civilisation that built them about 800 years ago.
The last of the American forces were withdrawn by 1973, turning over the town and base at Phu Cat to the struggling South Vietnamese forces. By the end of March 1975, the North Vietnamese were in control of both.
The whole Binh Dinh region has long been a hotbed of conflict involving the Chinese, Khmers and Vietnamese, dating back more than a millennium. Dynasties, regimes and minor empires have reigned and drained all along the coast and inland in a historical tussle between feudal families and tribal warlords.
It is only in the past 30-odd years that the district has enjoyed prolonged peace and stability.
Yet, the real hero of Qui Nhon is not some overlooked sidekick of Ho Chi Minh nor any North Vietnamese general from the American War, but a young self-proclaimed emperor from the late 18th century, Quang Trung.
The youthful commander thwarted a horde of some 200,000 Chinese invaders in 1789 and went on to become a modern communist people’s champion, having reformed many of the unjust policies of his predecessors. Under his reign, education and the arts flourished until the short-lived golden era was quashed by the Nguyens following his premature death in 1792.
In the courtyard of a commemorative museum built in his honour about 50km out of town is an imposing bronze statue that presides over the manicured gardens and century-old heritage trees.
Inside the little building are artefacts from the battles as well as costumes, murals and documents celebrating that turbulent era. Across the courtyard is a vo binh dinh martial arts academy where students demonstrate their acrobatic form of self-defence with high leaps, kicks and swoops of scary bamboo lances.
Read the full article by Roderick Eime from Courier Mail.
