By PHK
In the preface to Dorothy Fall’s Bernard Fall: Memories of a Soldier-Scholar, (Potomac, 2006) the late David Halberstam recounted his admiration for his friend Bernard Fall. Fall’s classic book Hell in a Very Small Place which recounted and explained the French defeat at the hands of Ho Chi Minh’s Viet-Minh in 1954 is, wrote Halberstam, “a great, great book, one of the most important nonfiction books of the last fifty years, a stirring bit of history and a cautionary tale for American presidents. (What, one wonders, would have happened had the architects of the second Iraq intervention read it?)” asked Halberstam although Colin Powell, Dorothy Fall tells us later in her text, had read the book twice.
Bernard Fall, for those of us old enough to remember the Vietnam War, was a scholar-soldier-writer, who began his “bad” love affair with Vietnam (or as he would write it Viet-Nam) summer 1953. Because of his French background and citizenship – he had become an American citizen before his untimely death - as well as his own participation as a guerilla fighter in the French underground during World War II, it’s perhaps only natural that Viet-Nam became his life’s work and passion. Or that he understood it and could explain the country and its struggle for independence so well.
I first learned of Bernard Fall in February 1967 when I was a graduate student in political science at Syracuse’s Maxwell School although, unfortunately, I never had a chance to meet him or hear him speak. Fall had just been killed in a booby-trap in Vietnam while accompanying American troops on a mission along “The Street without Joy” as a part of his research on the deepening American 
involvement in the country and the evolving course of the war.
This was Fall's sixth and final research visit to Vietnam. His own American experience began as a Fulbright scholar in that same political science department where numerous faculty still remembered him reverently for his intellect, his realism, the quality of his on-the-ground, in-depth research, his trustworthiness, his productivity and a dissertation on Vietnam that encompassed over 900 pages.
A year or so later, I came across Fall’s file in the department office when I was an administrative assistant and still working on courses for my PhD. In that file, I found and read his hand written letters to one of his former professors. One letter detailed an interview he had had with Ho Chi Minh in 1962. By then, of course, Fall was on the faculty of Washington, DC’s Howard University.
His research, its implications and his willingness to speak out made him unpopular with Kennedy and Johnson administrations because he had long questioned – with good reason – the administrations’ fundamental policy decisions based on too rosy assessments of the course of that ill-begotten war and what superior American fire-power could bring to this anti-Communist crusade.
Fall was a political realist who understood all too well the staying power of guerilla warfare: he was not anti-American as the powers that be in Washington at the time tried to paint him. He was anti-Communist, anti- Nazi, and he was no French agent.
FBI targeted the wrong man
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