Chào các bạn,
Background:
I don't have Unikey on this computer, so it's quite hard to copy + paste every sentence from an online Vietnamese typing site (my excuse to use English).
I found other reddit posts asking about similar topics, however, it did not let me post a comment there, so I am making a new post.
Story: I followed the instructions on the Vietnamese embassy website https://vietnamembassy-usa.org/vi/basic-page/221-thu-tuc-cap-doi-ho-chieu-con-han-doi-voi-cong-dan-viet-nam-cu-tru-co-thoi-han-tai-hoa They do not specify how much the filling fee(s) is/are.
I emailed asking about the filling fee for mailed-in application and got replied almost right away. However, they did not tell me how much directly, but telling me to send them pictures of my documents and payment method (credit/debit card number+ expiration day) via the same email.
I emailed [hochieu@vietnamembassy.us](mailto:hochieu@vietnamembassy.us), but received the response from [vnembassy.express@gmail.com](mailto:vnembassy.express@gmail.com) .
Although they listed both emails in their email signature session and the phone numbers in the signature also match the numbers provided on https://vietnamembassy-usa.org/, these info can be looked up online. I have no problem doing it this way. It is actually more convenient for me.
Just wonder if this is the way they often work? And if I am falling for any scam? I am just afraid of scamming. The email was polite and did not show any suspicious red flags to me (as my "fluency" in Vietnamese can detect).
The last time I called them was 10 years ago, when I tried to get my passport done at the embassy in Washington DC. They picked up the phone sometimes if I called at the right hours, about 10-11 in the morning. If not, it was impossible to call. Since I knew the calling window was narrow and I had work in the morning, I did not call this time.
Please let me know your experience, so I can decide if responding to them with my personal info is a good idea. Thank you!

I will preface this by saying I don't support The Legion (in case that's what anyone thinks). I just want to discuss some common misconceptions about this faction. It's important to know your enemy ;)

1. "The Legion is too unrealistic/comically evil for Fallout (People usually say this in the main sub) I think a brutal faction like this makes perfect sense in the wasteland. We already had an evil, genocidal faction (The Enclave). It makes sense in the brutal wasteland that some people would believe in the "might makes right" and "survival of the fittest" ideology and create hierarchies based on this (gender roles/conquering tribes/slavery). Slavery was already in existence in other areas of the game before the Legion became a major faction. So for there to be a society based on this ideology makes sense within this universe. We already have fascism in the real world some of which mirrors Caesar's ideology. The developers did a great job creating such unique antagonists who are a commentary on fascist ideologies and what that would look like in the Fallout universe.

Caesar believes that through dictatorship, there will be no corruption, there will be no "societal ills" like raiders, gambling, chem usage or "degeneracy". In his eyes, he's "cleansing society" (for exaample, the Nipton lottery). Obviously his ideology and methods are 100% evil and he's wrong. That's the point. But for some reason, people consider the faction's evil nature as them being a poorly written faction. This is not a faction that was made to have positive values that you or I would believe in, that's the NCR's role. The Legion was never intended to be morally grey. Mr House and Yes Man already fill that role. There's no reason to be shocked that there is pure evil in the wasteland, this is Fallout.

1. The Legion doesn't have any skills / they don't use guns They do use guns. They're just taught not to 'rely' on guns. Since birth, they are trained using guns and melee weapons. The Legion's strong sense of morale boosts their ability in combat against the NCR. The NCR is more superior in technology, resources, and manpower but the average NCR trooper is given 2 weeks of training and has lower morale. That makes them a bit more even on the battle field. Think about the Viet Cong vs the USA military. The Legion also employs other methods that don't involve battle eg. Turning Searchlight radioactive or a Legion spy infiltrating Camp McCarran.
   
2. "They don't use medicine" Yes they do. They use healing powder and healing poultice. These replenish health and heal crippled limbs at a slower pace than a doctor's bag or stimpak but it's still medicine at the end of the day. They are primitive, for sure but they use natural medicine.
   
3. "They are dressed too silly" That's the point. They have an army of assimilated tribals. They don't have the same level of industry as the NCR who has companies like The Crimson Caravan or Van Graffs that manufacture weapons and armor. The Legion gear consists of scavenged football gear as a result. Yes, it does look silly. This is a wasteland where most people don't even know what football is, nor do they know about the roman empire. Only educated people like Arcade or Caesar do. To the rest of the wasteland, it's just armor. Them being dressed silly to us makes perfect sense.
   
4. Thinking they're well written/interesting =/= support I think they're a well made faction. They have a lot of memorable moments (Nipton, talking to Caesar at the Fort, Kimball assasination, Boone's backstory). That said, yes the Legion is deplorable. Them being evil doesn't make them poorly written and acknowledging them as an interesting faction doesn't make you a Legion supporter. I sure don't support them. Here's a message for those who unironcally support the Legion - degenerates like you belong on a cross ;)
   

https://youtu.be/sWTq6I368N0?si=SGP3Uzq_Zraj--jJ
It is an attempt to simplify writing Vietnamese, lowering the letters in the Vietnamese alphabet from 38 letters, to 31. However, it is incredibly confusing for majority of Vietnamese speakers out there. For example, ng is now q, nh is now n’, đ is now d, th is now w, c is now k, d is now z, tr, ch is now c, ph is now f. What do you think about this? Do you like this idea or not? Translator from Chữ quốc ngữ to Chữ Bùi Hiền: https://freetoolonline.com/cong-cu-chuyen-doi-chu-quoc-ngu-tieng-viet-thanh-tieq-viet-kieu-moi.html

Hi all, I'm a Vietnamese and I think you knew that Vietnam is ruled by the commie regiem.
Sorry about my grammar and the long text. But I just want to let you know more about my country.
Many sources from the US and other western media said that was the war between the US and revolutional Vietnamese forces. But they are wrong.
In recent days, I see that US students and the leftists are protesting for stopping the war in Gaza, this looks like the same with anti-war movement during 6x-7x with the slogan "Make love, not war". Because of that, many reports are only about the war between two sides are the US and Viet Cong. But there is one more side, that is Republic of Vietnam or South Vietnam.
My grand father was the soldier of the Army of Republic of Vietnam (ARVN). He fought for the freedom for our country. My father's uncles lost their lives during Tet offensive and Ester offensive while serving in ARVN. After the war, the commie captured my grand father and forced him to a prison that they called "re-education camp" without any trial. After he was released, my family was forced to a jungle that they called "new econonic zone".
My grand father never told me about the war when I was a child because it was hard to told the true to a child when that child is going to school under commie control.. Under the commie education system, I used to thought that ARVN betrayed my country. But when I went to high school, my uncle said a famous quote of the former president of South Vietnam Nguyen Van Thieu "do not listen what is the communists say, but look at what they do". I started looking and asking my grand father for more details and realized that he was a hero.
His oldest brother joined the communist party during the first Indochina war, but my grand father refused. Unlike his brother, he know what the communist is, he used to be want to join special force of ARVN but his father didn't let him go, then my grand father join the ARVN as army infantry to defend our country from the commie.
Unfortunatelly, as you know. The South Vietnam lost the war, not the US, but the south. There were many mistakes from officers of ARVN. But in general, no one can fight without the lack of logistics and armo. Western media often described ARVN as a weak military. But there are many stories during the war show a different view.
I suggest you look at this video and follow that channel (not mine, I don't know the author) to know more about ARVN and its soldiers, they were the strong soldiers
https://youtu.be/DW0M_dn8WHE?si=E93M9Hg01juOVv1D
My grand father past aways 6 years ago. But I always remember him and thanks what his did for our country, despite he didn't success.
I hope in the future, my country has the freedom. For those are in free countries, don't let the commie go to your authorities, keep your country free and please pray for my country and the soldiers of ARVN.

Hello there.
Can anyone recommend any books that covers the viet cong? equipment, tactics, history, etc.

Tales from the Pack Six:
The Silent Thunder of Skyhawks

Black swirling clouds of blissful unconsciousness disappeared into a fog of dim light, quickly followed by a blazing glare which made him shut his eyes again. His head felt like it was filled with tar as he once again opened his eyes, blinking rapidly as his hazy vision reluctantly cleared. The room was incredibly bright and he attempted to raise his hands to wipe his eyes but immediately thought better of it as he could feel the dull sting in his arms and aching joints in his elbows from multiple IV tubes invading his flesh.
Several dark, blurry, forms stood around his hospital bed, all looking down at him. He blinked his eyes even more furiously, willing them to focus. As the misty haze finally cleared from his vision, he could see that five young men stood on both sides of the bed. They all had close-cropped hair and were wearing light tan and olive green US Navy combat aviator flight suits. And emblazoned on each of their suits was the Golden Dragon unit patch of Attack Squadron VA-192.
“Hey, guys,” exclaimed the pilot standing at the right foot of the bed, staring down at the man lying in the bed with icy blue eyes and a light brown moustache that framed a broad warm smile. “Blanker’s coming around! I think he’s going to make it!”
A brief cheer arose from the other pilots. A pilot standing by Blanker’s left shoulder playfully ruffled up his hair. “How are you feeling, new guy? What the heck happened to your hair? Your hair color’s gone!”
“Blanker?” the man lying in the bed remembered. “That’s not my callsign. Well, it was. But that was a while ago, before…before… that last mission. My callsign’s Flash, now. Flash! You guys should know that!”
“Brass?” The man lying in the hospital bed, the man whom his friends were calling Blanker but whose callsign was Flash, attempted to sit up. His voice felt cracked, throat dry, as he looked up at the smiling young black pilot gently scratching the top of his head. “Brass, you’re here?”
Flash looked at the men standing around his bed, his eyes fully focused now. “Canaveral. Flapper. Kazi. Pickle. You’re all here.”
Flash’s eyes then fell to the far wall of his hospital room. Sitting on a small tan couch under the curtained bay window was a young woman with stunning red hair. She was staring sadly and silently at him. A little ginger-haired girl, perhaps her daughter, was asleep on her lap. Flash thought that he might have seen her before. Maybe she was the wife or girlfriend of one of his squadron buddies?
“Wooo, buddy, you sound terrible! Here, have some water.” Kazi, the youngest pilot in the squadron, handed Flash a cup of iced water that Flash gratefully took. His hands were still weak for some reason and Kazi caught the cup before it spilled.
“Hang on, Blanker,” smiled Kazi. “Here, let me help you.”
Kazi held the cup to Flash’s lips as he sipped the water, grateful that his friends had come to visit him, but still perplexed that they were calling him by his old callsign. Feeling much better as the water flowed down his parched throat, Flash leaned back and smiled.
“Thanks for coming, guys,” said Flash, his voice now clearer and more distinct. “What… what the heck happened to me?”
“You tell us! You look terrible, buddy,” said Canaveral with sincere sympathy. “It took us a while to get here. Sorry, man.”
At 33, Canaveral was a slender brown haired pilot and the oldest member of the squadron outside of the commanding officer. He had recently been promoted to squadron XO (executive officer) just two weeks before they flew their last mission together. Flash’s memory trailed back to just a few days ago… weeks ago… months ago… he couldn’t remember. Back to when he first joined the 192^nd at NAS (Naval Air Station) Lemoore in California.
June, 1966
Canaveral had joined the Golden Dragons a year before Blanker...no, Flash...my callsign is Flash... joined the squadron. At that time, Canaveral was the operations officer in charge of training for the squadron. His job was getting the FNGs (f-ing new guys) up to speed before the squadron’s upcoming deployment to Vietnam aboard the carrier USS Ticonderoga in October.
“C’mon, Blanker One,” Canaveral said when he first introduced himself to the FNG.
“Let’s see if we can’t earn you a callsign before we head to Yankee Station.”
“Blanker?” thought Flash. “That was my callsign back then. But it’s Flash now. Remember?”
Flash’s head still felt woozy, likely from the painkillers he had been given for whatever traumatic event happened to him. He was having difficulty separating memory from reality.
Canaveral was actually Captain Alvin J. Baker from El Reno, Oklahoma. Tall, lanky, and easy going, he exuded a confidence that came with someone who knew his deadly craft inside and out.
The term ‘Blanker,’ Canaveral explained, was the generic term used by the squadron for an FNG who hadn’t earned a callsign yet. And, if by chance there were more than one Blanker in the squadron, they would be numbered Blanker One, Blanker Two, and so on. And they would be saddled with this generic callsign until they earned their individual one.
Much to his chagrin, Blanker One learned that all of the other pilots in the squadron had already earned their own unique callsigns from either past training screw-ups or incidents that occurred during previous deployments to Vietnam. Blanker One was the only newbie in Attack Squadron 192, stuck without a callsign and would remain that way until he had earned his.
During the train up for deployment, Flash learned that CPT Baker earned his callsign ‘Canaveral’ due to a remarkable feat of luck and aviation marksmanship during VA-192s last deployment to Yankee Station in Vietnam. During a strike near Haiphong Harbor in the Pack 6 of North Vietnam, CPT Baker (then a lieutenant commander or LCDR) led a flight of two A4E Skyhawks on a mission to suppress Communist air defenses, called Iron Hand, so that the main strike package of another four A4E Skyhawks could go in and hit the Haiphong rail yards unmolested.
As the North Vietnamese gunners acquired the range and elevation for their quad 23mm and twin 57mm anti-aircraft guns, Commander Baker’s wingman, another A4 Skyhawk piloted by Lieutenant Hank Garrison, was hit by shrapnel from an exploding 57mm shell as he rocketed to the approach angle to launch his anti-radiation missiles. With the aft section of Garrison’s Skyhawk ablaze, Baker ordered his wingman to pull up and head back to the water, called going feet wet, where Navy SAR (search and rescue) can pick him up if he had to eject.
As his wingman’s smoking Skyhawk pulled up and into the high cirrus clouds, and with the clear sky around his bucking Skyhawk being smudged black by explosions from the frantically firing North Vietnamese gunners, Baker pointed the nose of his Skyhawk towards a Soviet made S-75 SAM site emplaced near the base of Thud Ridge. Baker could see the missiles traversing, the Communist ground controllers tracking the approach of the main Skyhawk strike package. When the targeting tone in his helmet signaled that his weapons had locked on the target’s radar emission, Baker activated his missiles. The tiny attack fighter shook from the weapon launch as two AGM-45 anti-radiation Shrike missiles launched from this rails and raced towards the North Vietnamese controlling station and radar system where a dozen enemy ground controllers were tracking the incoming American Skyhawks.
However, the Vietnamese ground controllers were experienced and well trained by their Russian masters. Realizing that the Americans targeted the radiation emissions from the Communist’s own radar signals, the Communist ground controllers shut off their radar and waited tensely for the American missile to lose tracking and fall harmlessly away. However, the new American Shrike missiles were programmed to remember the point where the radar track originated, even if the radar was shut off, and one hundred-fifty pounds of high explosives flew straight into the Communist radar system at supersonic speed, engulfing it and the ground controllers into a thundering mushroom cloud explosion of fiery destruction.
The earth rumbled and belched as the second missile exploded a split second later spreading a tidal wave of molten metal and flame in a wide arc. This tsunami of fire ignited the fuel of a nearby S-75 SAM launcher and the missile flew skywards and somersaulted over and over into the air before slamming into an S-60 anti-aircraft gun emplacement 100 meters away. The resulting explosion blew the unfortunate Communist anti-aircraft gunners several dozen meters straight into the sky. [Note: This event actually occurred and film footage of the strike exists]
“Damn,” said Commander Baker as he circled his Skyhawk above the carnage he had caused. “The damn North Vietnamese reached the moon before we did.”
“And that,” Commander Baker explained eight months later to the squadron’s newest and only FNG, “is how I earned the DFC (Distinguished Flying Cross) and, more importantly, the callsign Canaveral.”
It was a scorching California summer afternoon and the two pilots were on the tarmac walking back towards the hangers after just having conducted a training flight on the newest version of the Skyhawk, the A4E.
“Yeah,” added a slender black pilot sporting very close-cropped hair, dark aviator glasses, and a pencil thin moustache as he approached across the flight line. He had three bottles of Coke, one he gave to Canaveral, one he handed to the red haired FNG, and one he opened for himself. The name on his uniform read Garrison.
“So this is the new Blanker,” said Garrison, as he looked the new pilot up and down. Wearing the rank of Lieutenant Commander, Garrison looked to be no older than his mid to late twenties. “Hey, Canaveral, you going to tell him what happened next? You ain’t the only one who earned their moniker that day!”
“I think I’ll let you tell that story, Brass.”
Garrison, whose call sign was Brass, took a long gulp of his Coke as the three walked towards the 192^nd Operations Room. “You know what, Canaveral? I’ll admit that I don’t have your talent for the flamboyant. The panache and flare, so to speak, for telling a good tale. I’m going to let you tell the FNG how I got my callsign.”
“He blew up,” shrugged Canaveral to Flash, a placid grin on his face.
“What? That’s it?” coughed Brass. “That’s all you’re going to say? ‘He blew up?’”
Canaveral glanced sideways towards the bemused looking new pilot. “Yeah… Old Brass here cost the US taxpayers nearly a million dollars that day!”
“Naw, bro,” said Brass. “That ain’t how it went down. Now look here, new guy…”
“My name is…” started Flash.
“Nope! Nope! Not yet,” interjected Brass, holding up his hands. “You don’t get a name until you earn a callsign. Until that blessed day, you’re either Blanker One, Blanker, F-ing New Guy, or FNG. Sorry. That’s just the way it is. It’s written in the Bible, new guy.”
Flash turned to Canaveral, who simply nodded in agreement.
“Anyway, new guy. Let me regale you with the tale of the day I selflessly saved Canaveral’s life so that he could be the John Wayne, white-bred, star of the show riding off into the sunset on his shiny white Skyhawk.”
“I don’t remember it like that,” said Canaveral.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Brass wagged a finger at Canaveral. “You had your chance to tell the story properly. Now let me fill the new guy in on how things really went down.”
“So, like my man Canaveral said, we were in some real heavy shit that day. Uncle Ho’s gunners already had our approach vectors, altitude, attack angles, and speed calculated, so we already had the deck stacked against us. Hell! They even had our callsigns.”
“Hang on,” said Flash, stopping in his tracks and looking incredulously at Brass. “How the hell did they get all that data? Is there some kind of leak in our intel?”
Canaveral just looked down, closing his eyes and shaking his head slightly.
“Sort of like that,” admitted Brass. “Now come on, new guy. It’s hot as shit out here.”
“Anyway,” continued Brass as the three pilots made their way towards the shade of the squadron hangers. “The Vietnamese were hitting us with all the flak they had in Hanoi and the sky around me and Canaveral was all black and red from all the explosions and tracers. Real Eighth Air Force over Berlin type shit, except that the Vietnamese also shot guided telephone poles at us that were far deadlier than their flak.”
“As we were approaching the point where we would dive to attack the SAM site, I noticed that we were taking 57mm rounds out to our one o’clock low from yet more flak guns. Canaveral here was fixing to dive right through that mess. Target fixation, it’s called. So, loyal and faithful wingman that I am, I banked hard right and dived, allowing myself to be struck by the cruel slings and arrows meant for my white-bred brother in arms.”
Brass chuckled good-naturedly as Canaveral exclaimed, “Bull-shit, Brass! You were bugging out to leave me high and dry and ended up getting hit instead!”
“Whatever, man!” replied Brass. “Now, are you going to let me finish my tale for this fine young, ginger haired, f-ing new guy?”
“Yeah, go ahead and finish your story, bro,” said Canaveral, finishing his Coke and nonchalantly tossing the bottle into a waste receptacle. He was unaware at how stunned the wide-eyed new guy was that the two veteran pilots would so casually and jokingly describe events that could have very easily ended their lives in a fireball of explosives, fuel, and twisted metal.
“So, as was previously stated, I was out over the Tonkin Gulf and trying to coax my Skyhawk back to the Tico (USS Ticonderoga). I knew I was hit, but it didn’t seem bad since my Skyhawk was still relatively responsive, despite all the warning lights going off in my face. Fifteen klicks from the Tico and I began to make my turn to get on deck. Controls were fighting me so I knew I was losing hydraulics. Ten klicks out and I could see SAR off the port halfway between my position and the Tico, approach path still good. Then at five clicks, my cockpit suddenly filled with smoke as the aft end of my plane felt like it got hit by a train. I ejected a split second before the fire hit my internal fuel tanks and my Skyhawk exploded. I was in the Gulf for about two minutes before SAR plucked me out of the water.”
“And that is why they call me Brass, ya’ dig?” Brass turned and smiled proudly and the new guy. “It’s because I got the biggest pair of brass balls in the entire US Navy!”
“Really? I thought it was because you had a brass ass!” replied Canaveral. “Despite the crotch of your flight suit catching fire, your ass only suffered minor burns!”

“And that, brother, and that!” laughed Brass, playfully punching Canaveral on the shoulders.

Then, turning back to Flash, Brass said, “What about ‘Red?’ You know, ‘cause new blood here got that red hair.”

“Naw, I don’t think so,” answered Canaveral. “There are, like, a million ‘Reds’ in the Navy. Not very original or unique.”

“Red Rocket? Red Rider?” proposed Brass.

“Nope,” replied Canaveral. “Sounds too forced, and I’ve heard those callsigns before.”

Brass threw up his hands. “Sorry, new blood. I tried.”

“Thanks,” replied Flash. “I’m sure I’ll earn an appropriate one before we head out.”

Eventually, the three pilots made it to the hanger where two of the squadron’s new A4Es were being serviced. The A4 Skyhawk was essentially the jet powered version of the US Navy’s old World War Two dive bomber and, strangely, was also about the same size as the old propeller driven death trap. The Skyhawk was very small for a jet fighter, so small in fact that pilots said that you don’t buckle into a Skyhawk, you throw it on your back like a backpack.

Yet despite its unusually small size, the Skyhawk could carry over 8,000 pounds of ordinance, including nuclear weapons, and although it was not supersonic like its shipmates the F4 Phantom and the F8 Crusader, it was very nimble and maneuverable, with its small size allowing the Skyhawk to get into heavily defended areas, deliver its payload, then scoot out quickly.

Exiting the hanger, they took a white walkway lined with large chunks of pearl white marble stones, turning left and heading towards the 192^nd operations building, a large Golden Dragon emblem symbolizing the fighter squadron painted above the entrance. Here, Flash met several other members of the squadron, including Lieutenant Pearson, callsign “Flapper,” Lieutenant Miranda, callsign “Pickle,” Lieutenant Commander (LCDR) Barthel, callsign “Kazi,” and Commander (CDR) Tortorich, callsign “Derringer.”

Over a lunch of steaks and salads at the spacious and immaculate officer’s galley, Flash was introduced to the other pilots and officers of the Golden Dragon squadron.

Like Flash, Lieutenant Pearson was the only other pilot who did not have combat experience in Vietnam. The only son of an Irish father and a Dutch mother, the twenty-six year old pilot had earned the nickname “Flapper” due to a near fatal accident he had while he was still in flight school. On his first solo training flight off the USS Lexington, a flock of seagulls flew straight into him just as he was approaching the training carrier. About a dozen of the birds struck his forward wing flaps, destroying one and jamming the other. Knowing that if he ejected, his Skyhawk would slam into the Lexington’s deck, Pearson instead decided to nurse his crippled fighter into a near textbook landing. This feat earned him the distinction of being the honor graduate of his class and earned Pearson the nickname Flapper.

Next was Lieutenant Juan Miranda, a short, brawny, dark skinned pilot with a thick face and bushy black moustache. He came from a family of Mexican immigrants, his father having flown against the Nazis in a P47 Thunderbolt during World War Two. Miranda was a veteran combat pilot that previously flew Skyhawks with VA-216, the Black Diamonds Squadron. He earned his nickname Pickle through a series of tragic errors which, fortunately, did not end in tragedy.

On the day Miranda earned his nickname, he was flying a two flight element over Route Package Three in the middle of South Vietnam near the Laotian border. It was considered a somewhat dangerous area due to the heavy concentration of NVA (North Vietnamese Army) anti-aircraft guns emplaced there to defend the Ho Chi Minh trail, but was definitely not as deadly as Route Package Six. An Army unit had been ambushed by the NVA and desperately needed immediate air support in order to safely extract their wounded. However, unbeknownst to Miranda, the Army 2^nd Lieutenant calling in the grid coordinates for the airstrike on the enemy positions had mistakenly transmitted the coordinates to his own position. Tragic mistake number one.

Tragic mistake number two occurred when Miranda pickled his bombs too soon, dropping six Mark-82 500 pound bombs 400 meters from the erroneous grid coordinates which the Army lieutenant had given him. His bombs mistakenly landed directly on top of the enemy NVA soldiers which had ambushed the Americans. These two errors conspired to wipe out the Communist force and save the hapless Americans, a feat which earned the stocky and greatly relieved Miranda his permanent callsign of Pickle.

Physically, LCDR Barthel, callsign “Kazi,”was the exact opposite of Pickle. Whereas Pickle was short, dark, and stocky, Kazi was tall, lanky, and pale with dark brown hair. He volunteered to join the Golden Dragons along with Pickle from the Black Diamonds when they heard that the 192^nd was slated to deploy to Vietnam. At just twenty-four, Barthel was the youngest pilot in the squadron.

Over Route Package Three just three weeks later, twenty miles north of the location where Pickle earned his callsign, LCDR Barthel was providing close air support over the area where a pair of Army UH-1 Huey helicopters had been shot down by NVA ground fire when his Skyhawk was struck 23mm guns hidden in the heavily forested mountains to the west of the valley. Losing flight controls due to the hydraulic system being blown away, Barthel pointed the nose of his Skyhawk, still loaded down with 8,000 pounds of fuel and ordinance, towards the NVA guns before ejecting. From his chute, Barthel witnessed his burning Skyhawk slam into the mountainside. To his surprise, the ground shattering explosion of his Skyhawk hitting the mountain resulted in many secondary explosions.

Later on, Barthel would learn that Army Special Forces went back into the valley to destroy any sensitive equipment on the two downed Hueys and his A4 Skyhawk and discovered that near the wreckage of his destroyed Skyhawk were the remnants of three NVA 23mm guns. Barthel was credited with the callsign “Kamikaze,” at first, but seeing as how he was born to an Irish father and a Japanese mother, his callsign was modified to “Kazi” so as not to offend his Japanese heritage. Kazi was legendary in the Skyhawk community for his daring and ability to lead flights through the most intense air defenses to deliver their ordinance on target.

“Let me tell you about Route Packages, new guy,” said CDR Tortorich, the squadron’s XO. His nickname was Derringer because of the handgun he kept with him when he flew the Navy’s propeller driven Spads as part of a SAR squadron. One day over the Pack Six, he was flying top cover in a Spad for a Marine F4 Phantom pilot that had been shot down. Viet Cong militiamen were approaching the wounded Marine’s position, but when Derringer dived on them, he was surprised to find that his cannons had jammed. Frustrated beyond belief, he pulled up, pushed his Spad into a tight turn, slid his canopy to the side and began firing down at the enemy soldiers with his handgun. Jolly Green was able to arrive on station to lower a jungle penetrator to the Marine. The Viet Cong waited until the Marine was being lifted off the ground before they showered the Jolly Green with RPG fire from the dense jungle. The Jolly Green exploded and crashed, killing all aboard.

“You need to pay attention, because you need to know where you’re most likely to receive fire.”

All of the light hearted and hearty bantering in the officer’s galley seemed to stop, and a somber mood engulfed the entire room. Flash, gulped, transfixed on Derringer’s icy stare as they seemed to bore a hole into Flash’s soul. Tortorich’s family immigrated to America from Finland shortly after World War Two, and the tall, blond haired pilot spoke with a slight Finnish accent.

“The Vietnam Theater of Operations is broken up into route packages. One through six,” said Tortorich, his usual carefree demeanor now replaced by painful memories of the day he witnessed seven courageous men die in the fiery explosion of the Jolly Green. “Packs One and Two are in South Vietnam’s southern areas where there is almost no enemy ground fire. It’s relatively safe, but you should not be complacent because a lucky shot from a VC farmer with an ancient musket has brought down our most advanced fighters.”

“Route Packages Three and Four are more dangerous. These cover the Ho Chi Minh trail where the NVA has emplaced hundreds, if not thousands, of flak guns. Pack Five is like Pack four, just times ten, and covers the border between South and North Vietnam.”

“And Pack Six...” Derringer lowered his head. He could not continue. In his head, he could still hear the warning of the Jolly Green’s co-pilot that RPGs were inbound. He could still hear the screams of the men as the rescue helicopter crashed into the jungle. That was his last mission as a SAR pilot. He’d quit that day, resolving to become a strike fighter pilot instead.

“The Pack Six is where we’re taking the most hits, “continued Canaveral, seeing that the XO was fighting ghosts of the past. “That’s Grand Central Station for NVA air defense. It’s the most defended place in world history, were literally hundreds of flak guns, SAM emplacements, and squadrons of MiG fighters defend every square mile. For some reason, Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara has allowed the NVA to build up those defenses almost unmolested and that’s where we will be expected to fly every day.”

“It’s a place where we can survive...” Canaveral added as he looked at Flash, “...but the SECDEF and folks like him in Washington aren’t making it easy for us. The leader of the free world’s greatest military says that we can’t hope to defeat Communism in Vietnam, and SECDEF McNamara sure as hell is trying to make his prediction come true.”

“That’s how the NVA always knows we’re coming,” said Brass. “SECDEF McNamara always makes sure the Communists has all the data they needed to intercept us. It helps support his narrative that we can’t win in Vietnam. Robert McNamara ran Ford motor company as their CEO before becoming SECDEF. His job is to make money. The more of us he allows to be killed, the more he can sell “new tech” to the Navy which he says can protect us from the failures which he created.”

Flash’s heart sank, his appetite for his perfectly cooked t-bone steak suddenly gone. So that’s it, he thought. That’s what’s killing all of the American pilots fighting to win the air war in Vietnam. It wasn’t the Communists. Yes, the Communists had impressive defenses, but American fighter pilots were devising ways to defeat them. The reason why American pilots were dying was because American pilots were forbidden by Washington DC to survive. Their civilian political slave masters had put restrictive parameters in place to ensure the narrative that America couldn’t win the air war over North Vietnam, despite American pilots proving them wrong every day. And as everybody knew, from Washington DC, to Hanoi, to Beijing, to Moscow: war equals profits. War meant big profits for the ones pulling the strings whether you be a Capitalist politician or a Communist one. The American politicians who said that the war couldn’t be won needed to be proven correct so that they could bill the American taxpayer for newer, fancier, technology which would win the war. The war in Vietnam was paying big money cutbacks from all the big industrial war machine corporations to the Washington DC elites, as they shed crocodile tears for the American pilots they had sent into harm’s way.

Hence, Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara ensured that the North Vietnamese had all of the strike data needed from every American mission he ordered into the Pack Six. Every...single...one... There was money to be made from future weapon developments resulting from America’s failure over North Vietnam, money that the US government was willing to pay to ensure that McNamara’s blunder in Vietnam wouldn’t be repeated. And McNamara waited with hands outstretched to be in on that cash windfall. The more American pilots he was responsible for killing, the richer he would become.

“Our A4Es are the latest version of the Skyhawk,” said Derringer. “It’s supposed to give us a greater chance of surviving the Pack Six. We’ll see...”

Four months later, the 192^nd Attack Squadron was on the USS Ticonderoga cruising off shore in the Gulf of Tonkin.

Mà thế lực thù địch là ai thì chúng ta không biết

A slow crawl comes up the screen texas chainsaw massacre '74 style minus the narration
"ATTENTION!!!!!!, Despite many attempts at restoring this film from the original negatives and splicing it together with a recently unearthed "director's cut", it may contain two or three missing reels. We apologize for any inconvenience. -Theater Management"
The sounds of 70's computer sounds blast through the speakers as computer images light up the screen and begin to show us a profile
"⬛, ⬛, ⬛, PVT Corporal Nicholas "Nicky" Vanders, Former Member of 6 RAR, D company during the battle of long tan in vietnam.⬛ Son of patrick vanders,former bodybuilder and jennifer vanders, hospital nurse. siblings are teresa vanders,local policewoman , martin vanders, iron ore mine worker, and sarah vanders, local hospital nurse.⬛ Other Relatives, Eric Vanders, Manager of Local Sugar mill in Wooloowin, Queensland.⬛Suffering Heavy Casualties, vanders led remaining comrades to victory fighting off viet cong despite receiving mortal wounds himself.⬛ Suffering from a severe case of shell shock, he was discharged with honors and ordered to nearest mental care facility near hometown of Brisbane. ⬛Vanders never arrived and was never seen or heard from again......................⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛u,⬛,n,⬛,t,⬛,i⬛,l,⬛,n,⬛,o,⬛,w⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛" sudden fade to black as you hear a switch click off. A fade in shows a desert road and a silhouette making it's presence known in the distance, the reel clicks to another shot and you see a pair of boots (attached to legs) walking through the australia sands. Suddenly the sound of a vehicle is heard, getting closer and closer to the pair of boots and the next shot you see is a pair of american tourists asking for directions, ( the close up of the boots slowly works its way up and you see not only boots but a pair of army fatigues, an American sea bag over the shoulder, and a dusty brush jacket) although you don't see his head he gives the pair directions to Sydney, after driving away he says under his breath "american tourists..........no matter how many times they come to this country every year,they still don't know how to read a bloody map". As the main credits begin to role (with bruce smeaton's piano from the "the cars that ate paris" theme begins to play) we get to see the figures face and the title of the film revealed ("So and so is.....NICHOLAS, Copyright MMXXIII") as you see him walking you get to see all kinds of shots of the australian wildlife (plants,tree, animals, waterfalls,etc) as the dirt road slowly turns into a paved one. He turns to see a sign at the start of the road "G'day, and welcome to the town of Brisbane, hope you enjoy your time here with us ". He smirks a little at the sign with the painted cartoon kangaroo below the words, winking and giving a thumbs up. Thinking to himself "Yeah, guess nothing's really changed in this town but no matter...... I'm finally home "

Vở tuồng “trò chơi vương quyền” trên sân khấu chính trị Ba Đình đang có những diễn biến bất ngờ và đầy kịch tính, báo hiệu một cuộc hỗn loạn càng lúc càng sâu sắc.
​
Ông Tô Lâm tìm mọi cách để có thể làm chủ tịch nước, vừa kiêm nhiệm bộ trưởng Công An, nhưng kế hoạch đó của ông bất ngờ bị gãy, ông phải bị miễn nhiệm chức bộ trưởng Công An. (Hình minh họa: Nhac Nguyen/AFP via Getty Images)
Truyền thông trong nước đưa tin trong phiên họp chiều 21 Tháng Năm, có 468/469 đại biểu Quốc Hội (QH) đã bỏ phiếu đồng ý điều chỉnh chương trình của kỳ họp thứ 7 QH khóa 15, bổ sung thêm nội dung “miễn nhiệm chức bộ trưởng Bộ Công An với Đại Tướng Tô Lâm.” Diễn biến này bất ngờ, “gây sửng sốt” vì chỉ mới hai hôm trước, ông Bùi Văn Cường, tổng thư ký QH, loan báo kỳ họp này chưa phê chuẩn hoặc miễn nhiệm chức danh bộ trưởng Công An bởi vì kỳ họp thứ 9 Ban Chấp Hành (BCH) Trung Ương khóa 13 chưa giới thiệu nhân sự để QH “bầu” vào chức bộ trưởng Công An.
Có lẽ nên lật lại những diễn biến chính trong cuộc đấu đá quyết liệt để giành ghế trên thượng tầng chính trị của đảng CSVN để thấy, diễn biến mới nhất và bất ngờ vừa kể trên đang hàm chứa nhiều bất ngờ lớn hơn nữa trong vài ngày tới.
Chỉ trong vòng hai tháng, bộ sậu chóp bu của đảng Cộng Sản (CS) và nhà nước Việt Nam đã có tới ba vị bị đứt gánh giữa đường: ông Võ Văn Thưởng bị mất chức chủ tịch nước ngày 20 Tháng Ba, ông Vương Đình Huệ mất chức chủ tịch QH ngày 28 Tháng Tư và mới nhất là bà Trương Thị Mai mất chức thường trực Ban Bí Thư kiêm trưởng Ban Tổ Chức Trung Ương hôm 16 Tháng Năm. Cả ba quan chức chóp bu này đều bị loại vì “có nhiều sai phạm” nhưng không mấy ai biết cụ thể họ đã sai phạm gì. Có điều, cú sụp hầm của ba người này, cộng với ba ủy viên Bộ Chính Trị đã bị loại trước đó (Trần Tuấn Anh, Nguyễn Xuân Phúc và Phạm Bình Minh) làm cho cơ quan quyền lực nhất nước bị mất một phần ba, từ 18 ủy viên nay chỉ còn 12 người; và “tứ trụ” bị gãy mất hai trụ.
“Sát thủ” thực hiện những vụ hạ bệ ngoạn mục này không ai khác hơn là ông Tô Lâm, bộ trưởng Công An, kẻ đang nuôi tham vọng chiếm chiếc ghế quyền lực nhất, tổng bí thư đảng CSVN, thay ông Nguyễn Phú Trọng chưa biết đứt bóng lúc nào vì tuổi cao sức yếu.
Các nhân vật bị Tô Lâm hạ bệ có phần do tội lỗi của chính họ, nhưng cũng có phần do đây là những “đối thủ cạnh tranh” mà ông Lâm phải loại trừ khỏi cuộc đua quyền lực để bảo đảm một mình một ngựa đi tới đỉnh vinh quang. Đánh ngã cùng một lúc hai trong bốn “tứ trụ,” loại cả thường trực Ban Bí Thư và trưởng Ban Tổ Chức Trung Ương, thế lực của ông Tô Lâm lên mạnh như diều gặp gió và cái ghế tổng bí thư béo bở tưởng như sắp vào tay ông Lâm. Nhưng sự đời nhiều khi thật tréo ngoe khi gần tới đích thì ông Tô Lâm lại đối mặt với một đòn hồi mã thương thật cay đắng.
Vụ thanh lọc đội ngũ ở cấp “tứ trụ” và Bộ Chính Trị tất nhiên đã gây ra những tai họa lớn về kinh tế và ngoại giao của đất nước trong thời gian qua. Nó cũng buộc đảng CSVN phải cấp tốc triệu tập hội nghị BCH Trung Ương 9 khóa 13 từ ngày 16 đến 18 Tháng Năm để “lấp chỗ trống.” Hội nghị đã “bầu” bổ sung bốn thành viên mới vào Bộ Chính Trị và “giới thiệu” để QH bầu ông Trần Thanh Mẫn làm chủ tịch QH và ông Tô Lâm làm chủ tịch nước. Ông Mẫn đã tuyên thệ nhậm chức hôm Thứ Hai, 20 Tháng Năm, và ông Tô Lâm sẽ nhậm chức vào sáng 22 Tháng Năm. Chỗ trống trong “tứ trụ” như vậy đã được lấp lại, và vở tuồng chuyển sang một cao trào mới, hấp dẫn hơn nữa.
Đáng chú ý là trong bốn ủy viên Bộ Chính Trị mới bầu lên không có ai là thành viên ban lãnh đạo chính phủ và các “đệ tử” mà ông Tô Lâm bảo kê như các tướng Lương Tam Quang, Nguyễn Duy Ngọc (hiện đều là thứ trưởng Bộ Công An) đều không được “bầu” với lý do những người này chưa ngồi đủ một nhiệm kỳ trong BCH Trung Ương.
Hồi Tháng Ba, khi ông Võ Văn Thưởng mất chức chủ tịch nước, ông Tô Lâm đã tuyên bố sẽ không ngồi vào chiếc ghế “có dớp” này. Nhưng vấn đề của ông Lâm là do tuổi tác, ông ta sẽ phải về vườn trước đại hội (nếu có) của đảng CSVN lần thứ 14 vào năm 2026; muốn được tiếp tục leo cao thì ông Tô Lâm phải kiếm được một “suất tứ trụ,” tức là dù không muốn Lâm cũng phải ngồi vào chiếc ghế xui xẻo mà ông Thưởng để lại thì mới có cơ may được ưu đãi “trường hợp đặc biệt” tiếp tục làm lãnh đạo khi đã quá tuổi quy định.
Trong hai tháng qua, ông Lâm tìm mọi cách sao cho ông ta vừa có thể làm chủ tịch nước, vừa kiêm nhiệm bộ trưởng Công An, nếu không được như vậy thì cũng phải cố cài đệ tử vào chiếc ghế bộ trưởng Công An để bảo đảm an toàn cho chính ông ta, tránh đi vào vết xe đổ của ông Nguyễn Xuân Phúc, ông Võ Văn Thưởng, hay tệ hơn là chết bất đắc kỳ tử như ông Trần Đại Quang, sếp cũ của ông ta ở Bộ Công An.
Nhưng sau hội nghị BCH Trung Ương 9 vừa qua, kế hoạch đó của ông Tô Lâm bất ngờ bị gãy. Theo thông lệ, bộ trưởng Công An phải do một ủy viên Bộ Chính Trị đảm trách, không có cửa cho các đàn em của ông Lâm từ thứ trưởng lên bộ trưởng.
Có lẽ do ông Tô Lâm phản ứng mạnh, hội nghị BCH Trung Ương đã không giới thiệu được người làm tân bộ trưởng để QH đóng con dấu cao su vào như thông báo hôm 19 Tháng Năm của Tổng Thư Ký QH Bùi Văn Cường. Tình hình bất ngờ thay đổi vào chiều 21 Tháng Năm, khi QH điều chỉnh chương trình kỳ họp, “bổ sung nội dung miễn nhiệm chức vụ bộ trưởng Bộ Công An” – nghĩa là ông Tô Lâm không thể ngồi một đít hai ghế, không giữ được chiếc ghế bộ trưởng Công An đầy quyền lực mà chuyển sang chiếc ghế chủ tịch nước hữu danh vô thực.
Chắc chắn chiếc ghế bộ trưởng Công An sẽ do một ủy viên Bộ Chính Trị ngồi vào. Dư luận đồn đoán – có thể đúng hoặc không đúng – ủy viên đó có thể là ông Phan Đình Trạc, trưởng Ban Nội Chính Trung Ương, hoặc ông Trần Cẩm Tú, trưởng Ban Kiểm Tra Trung Ương. Ông Trạc hay ông Tú thì ông Tô Lâm đều gặp khó. Hai ban kiểm tra và nội chính thực chất là những cơ quan “siêu công an,” chuyên điều tra, thu thập tài liệu chứng cứ và đề nghị trừng phạt các tổ chức đảng và đảng viên cao cấp trước khi cho phép Bộ Công An bắt giữ, truy tố những quan chức đó. Nếu ông Lâm là hung thần của toàn xã hội thì ông Trạc, ông Tú chính là hung thần của đám cán bộ đảng viên. Thêm nữa, nếu được cử làm bộ trưởng Công An thì ông Phan Đình Trạc – từng là giám đốc Công An rồi bí thư Tỉnh Ủy Nghệ An và là một anh chị có số má trong băng Nghệ An do ông Vương Đình Huệ cầm đầu – sẽ làm cho tân Chủ Tịch Nước Tô Lâm thất điên bát đảo.
Ông Tô Lâm đã hạ bệ ông Thưởng và ông Huệ bằng đòn “hồi tố” hành vi tham nhũng của hai người này liên quan tới các công ty Phúc Sơn và Thuận An xảy ra nhiều năm trước thì ai dám chắc ông Phan Đình Trạc sẽ không dùng chính đòn “hồi tố” đó để triệt hạ ông Tô Lâm qua điều tra các vụ mua bán MobiFone-AVG trước đây hoặc vụ điều tra công ty Trách Nhiệm Hữu Hạn Thương Mại Dịch Vụ Xuân Cầu (Xuân Cầu Holdings) do các em, các cháu của ông Tô Lâm điều hành. So với các ông Huệ hoặc ông Thưởng, “hồ sơ tội phạm” của ông Tô Lâm hẳn phải dày hơn, trầm trọng hơn – có vụ liên quan tới quan hệ đối ngoại của nhà nước như vụ bắt cóc ông Trịnh Xuân Thanh làm đứt gãy quan hệ với Đức và Slovakia – nên ông Lâm sẽ ăn không ngon (dù ăn thịt bò dát vàng), ngủ không yên khi ghế bộ trưởng Công An do người không thân tín nắm.
Truyền thông loan tin kỳ họp QH thứ 7 hiện đang diễn ra sẽ “bổ sung nội dung miễn nhiệm chức vụ bộ trưởng Bộ Công An” theo đề nghị của ông Phạm Minh Chính, thủ tướng, dù không cho biết ai sẽ được ngồi vào chiếc ghế bộ trưởng Công An sau khi ông Tô Lâm bị miễn nhiệm chức vụ. Liệu đề nghị bất ngờ, làm cho ông Tô Lâm không kịp trở tay của ông Chính, có dẫn tới một vụ “tái đấu” quyết liệt giữa ông Lâm và ông Chính hay không?
Nên để ý, ông Lâm và ông Chính đều từng là thứ trưởng Công An và giành ghế nhau rất gay gắt trước khi ông Chính chuyển sang chính trị làm bí thư Tỉnh Ủy Quảng Ninh, còn ông Lâm thẳng tiến lên ghế bộ trưởng. Cả ông Lâm và ông Chính đều có thâm niên phụ trách an ninh và tình báo nên đều nắm nhiều bằng chứng về nhau, sẵn sàng sử dụng để triệt hạ nhau khi cần thiết. Thời gian qua, ông Tô Lâm đã ráo riết săn lùng bà Nguyễn Thị Thanh Nhàn – chủ tịch Hội Đồng Quản Trị kiêm tổng giám đốc công ty Cổ Phần Tiến Bộ Quốc Tế (AIC) – nhằm mục tiêu triệt hạ ông Phạm Minh Chính mà chưa có kết quả.
Trang BBC nhận định, “với cương vị là nguyên thủ quốc gia, ông Tô Lâm có quyền miễn nhiệm, bãi nhiệm chức vụ của thủ tướng là ông Phạm Minh Chính.” Nói như vậy không sai về lý thuyết, nhưng trong thực tế chính trị Việt Nam, chức vụ thủ tướng là do tập thể Bộ Chính Trị của đảng CSVN quyết định, không phải ông Tô Lâm muốn mà được.
Một cuộc chiến “sống mái” giữa tân Chủ Tịch Nước Tô Lâm với Thủ Tướng Phạm Minh Chính sẽ là “cao trào” của vở tuồng quyền lực trên sân khấu chính trị Ba Đình do gánh hát có tên đảng CSVN diễn; bà con nhớ đón xem! [qd]
Hiếu Chân/Người Việt
https://www.nguoi-viet.com/binh-luan/to-lam-mat-chuc-bo-truong-cong-an-ba-dinh-hon-loan/