“The sound of gunshots pierce the thick jungle air. I’m on my hands and knees, crawling through the subterranean darkness, sweating in places I didn’t know I had sweat glands”, that was what Lori felt when he was inside the tunnels, a network of secret underground passageways - dug by hand - at one time measured more than 120 miles, stretching from the Cambodian border to the outskirts of what was then Saigon.

The web of tunnels, which used to be home to local villagers seeking shelter from bomb raids, plus thousands of North Vietnamese Army-backed guerrillas, these days welcomes some 1,000 visitors daily but only a few short sessions of the tunnels are accessible today.

The author confided, “Before I arrived in Vietnam , I was a little worried that I might face lingering animosity over the American War, as they call it. When you carpet bomb a country and spray its landscape with Agent Orange, people might hold a grudge.”

“But the only accosting this Yank got was from overeager Vietnamese street vendors desperate to sell their bamboo bowls and other tchotchkes.”

Lori concluded his article by quoting his Vietnamese guide, Nguyen Cao Van, whose uncle was a colonel for the South Vietnamese army and wife is from North Vietnam , saying that “What happened has happened. We don't look to the past, we look to the future."