Read Online Fifty Shades of Black by Arthur Black - Free Book Online

pyjamas hunkered down in the dark hammering and hacksawing chunks of bombshell debris.
    As it happens, the soil in the Cu Chi area readily lends itself to the construction of tunnels. It’s a mixture of clay, sand and rock that, on exposure to air, hardens like cement.
    US forces weren’t entirely unaware of the presence of the tunnels but they had no clue how extensive they were, and they weren’t likely to find out by exploring them. The tunnels were low and narrow, built to accommodate the smaller bodies of Vietnamese, not a GI’s strapping bulk. Then, too, the prospect of shimmying into a black void infested with poisonous spiders, venomous snakes, rats AND armed enemy soldiers, all in stifling jungle heat, can’t have held much appeal. Accordingly, troops finding a concealed tunnel entrance usually elected to pump in poison gas or toss in a few grenades, fill in the entrance and move on.
    So what was it like for the Viet Cong who lived in and fought out of the Cu Chi tunnels? Not good. Aside from being carpet-bombed almost daily, they suffered from a variety of pestilences. A captured Viet Cong document indicated that at any given time more than half the underground troops were stricken with malaria and that “one hundred percent had intestinal parasites of significance.” Human beings aren’t designed to live in tunnels. The air was bad, the diet was pathetic and the denizens had to learn to live in a permanent hunch in pretty much perpetual darkness. Viet Cong who didn’t die outright suffered from severe vitamin deficiency that left them with enlarged heads, weak eyes, bad hearts, swollen feet and severe respiratory infections.
    Sixteen thousand Viet Cong fought out of the Cu Chi tunnels during what they call “the American War.” Twelve thousand of them lie buried in graves that carpet the outskirts of the tunnels.
    Do the math. Three-quarters of the troops fighting for Ho Chi Minh in the Cu Chi tunnels died there. Clearly the whole tunnel offensive was a devastating defeat for the North Vietnamese forces.
    And yet . . .
    The official name of the nearest city is Ho Chi Minh City, not Saigon. It was changed in spirit the day a Viet Cong commando squad briefly but humiliatingly took over the US Embassy in Saigon during the Tet Offensive of 1968. Those Viet Cong operated out of the tunnels at Cu Chi.
    The war is over and, incredibly, Western tourists are warmly welcomed in Vietnam. We can even tour short sections of the tunnels at Cu Chi—sections that have been purposely enlarged to accommodate our Western bodies. Even at that it’s a cramped and uncomfortable experience—unimaginable as a way of life.
    As one sweaty, wide-eyed Canadian tourist said, emerging into the sunlight from the Cu Chi tunnels, “No wonder they won.”

 
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    Armed and Out to Lunch
    W hat do you do when you realize the guy who lives next to you is nuts?
    I don’t mean “eccentric” or “dippy.” I mean stark staring, bring-the-butterfly-nets nuts.
    I thought about having him arrested, but I think he’s got more pull with the cops than I have. Besides, he’s pretty big—and he has a mean streak that stretches from here to Baghdad. I’m not talking about my personal next-door neighbour—he’s fine (besides I’ve still got his lawnmower). No, I’m talking about OUR neighbour—the US of A.
    Why do I think America’s nuts? Let me count the ways. Let’s start with the cartoon characters the Republican Party offered for presidential consideration last time around. Let’s see . . . there was Newt the crook and Michele the loony; Cain the serial stickman and Rick Santorum, whom even the atrocious Ron Paul called “atrocious.” At the bottom of the barrel they found a corporation called MITT, hooked it up to Lyin’ Ryan and that’s the ticket they ultimately went with.
    But when you see how some other