Putrid darkness surrounds me.

Where is the exit?

How long until we’re out?

Rather than dwelling on these questions, I move on.

Nao, pushing forth from behind me, does not seem to be phased by the stench of human excrement combined with restaurant waste and who knows what else in the blackness of this Saigon Sewer.

How is he not sick too?

My stomach wretches as I push forward.

This ends soon.

Keep pushing through.

The weight of more than 25kg of explosives on my back helps keep my stomach in check.

Crawling my way through the blackened liquid in the dark on this humid May night, I can make out a change in the shade of darkness ahead.

Pausing for a moment to let my eyes adjust, I feel Nao push my foot from behind.

Maybe that’s it!

He pushes again.

I start toward to deep gray circle ahead.

Yes, an end to the sewer!

We will be able to breath again!

Turning my head around, I whisper “I see the exit” just loud enough for Nao to hear me.

He taps my foot twice as I turn again to keep going forward.

Slipping down the end of the sewer pipe, into Saigon Harbor, my eyes need time to adjust.

Nao slips down behind me, the heavy pack on his back brushing me as he quietly half-submerges his body in the harbor waters.

Just meters ahead I can see our target, the aircraft carrier the Americans audaciously docked here to deliver aircraft to the puppet regime.

This harbor air smells and tastes so good!

Without acknowledging the change in air intake, Nao puts on his snorkel just before diving under the water toward the carrier.

Pulling my snorkel out of my pack, I put it on just in time to follow him by just a meter.

This water feels so good as compared to whatever was in that sewer.

Oily, filled with debris and algae, this water surrounds me with a fresh clean feeling of liberation.

Near the aft of the ship, Nao dives deeper.

I take a deep breadth before following him down.

No sense being seen this close to getting the job done.

He swims another fifteen meters alongside the curving hull of the ship, staying below the water line.

I follow him, making sure not to get too close while not losing him in the wet dark shadow of this massive metal monster.

Nao stops swimming, rising to surface under the bilge outlet flow.

I rise next to him, pointing to the hole out of which the bilge is being pumped.

We should place a bomb there.

He nods his head in silence, assenting to my idea.

Aligning my body with the curve of the hull, I put out my arms so Nao can mount my shoulders.

He deftly ascends the side of the ship, using me as a base from which to leverage his body against its hull, rising arm over arm until he’s in-line with the bilge outlet.

Once next to it, he places three American made plastic explosive charges securely against the metal skin of the ship in a triangle formation.

That should make a pretty big hole.

Connecting wires to each explosive, he pulls the lines down as he descends his body toward the water.

When Nao is back in the water, I take the other three explosives out of my pack.

He turns to look at me, at the explosives, then at the hull of the ship.

When he turns back I see a smile on his face.

Handing him the explosives, he turns again toward the ship.

He places them in a second triangle, just above the water-line, directly below the first set.

While he’s placing them, I get the wires and timer out of my pack.

He turns toward me again, pulling the lines from my hands without a word.

I smile.

This will make a huge hole! We’re going to sink this beast!

Nao connects the wires from both triangles of explosives to the timer, before diving under the water.

What’s he doing down there?

He comes back up, holding a handful of slimy mud from the bottom of the harbor.

Packing it with his hands, he then places it on the back of the timer, before attaching the timer to the hull of the ship.

Ingenious!

An empty pack on my back, a settled stomach, and a mission set-up, I turn to go back under the water and return to the putrid stench of the sewer.

Nao puts his hand on my shoulder, pushing to turn me back around again.

What did I miss?

As I turn toward him, I see him pointing to the timer, it’s not set.

Oh!

I look him in the eyes, smile, and move toward the timer.

Of course, what would the point of any of this be if we did not set the timer?

Placing both hands on the device, I turn the electrostatic nob halfway, which should give us ten minutes to get back into the sewer, and far enough way to escape the blast and any search party sent to find us.

Nao’s hand pulls on my shoulder again.

I turn to see him already heading back under the water toward the sewer.

I’m not staying here!

Diving silently into the water, I follow Nao to the sewer entrance.

May this drive the Americans to make a different choice than the French.

Get out!

On the night of May 2, 1964 two members of the National Liberation Front (NLF, aslo known as Viet Cong by Americans stationed in Vietnam) crawled out of a sewer in Saigon harbor near the United States Naval Ship (USNS) Card, an escort carrier from World War II which had been used for three years to transport aircraft and trained crews to South Vietnam. The NLF fighters planted American made explosives on the USNS Card before slipping back into the sewer from which they had entered the harbor. A few minutes later the explosives ripped a giant hole in the hull of the carrier, sending it to the bottom of Saigon harbor. This attack disabled the ship for less than 20 days, at which point it was repaired enough to be sent to facilities in the Philippines and Japan where it was rebuilt. The attack was not reported widely in the United States, but was a propaganda coup for the NLF, showing they could strike at a massive piece of American military equipment. This kind of attack was replicated in 2000 when the U.S.S. Cole was attacked in Aden harbor with explosives by Al Qaeda. At least in that attack, the explosives themselves were not of American origin. In war, bribery and corruption of your own, or allied personnel, may leave you vulnerable to your own weapons. Especially, when you’re not supposed to be there in the first place.