From mid-December, the French forces increased their provocative actions in Hanoi.
On December 15, French soldiers opened fire in several parts of the city. They shot at our policemen of Precinct VIII in Hang Dau park. They threw grenades wounding two National Defence guards in Ham Long Street. They challenged members of the self-defence corps in Tran Quoc Toan Street, seized a rickshaw and brought it into Don Thuy hospital.
All day December 17, French aircraft flew reconnaissance flights over Hanoi.
Then at 10 a.m. for the first time, the French Army sent armoured cars to demolish our fieldworks in Lo Duc Street and carried away the wooden pillars. When the Joint Liaison and Control Commission came to intervene, French soldiers said they were obeying their superiors’ orders.
At the same moment, a military troop car came to one end of Hang Bun Street and dropped down a band of Foreign Legionaries. These climbed onto an earth rampart and fired on the people in the street. Our self-defence force fired back. More French soldiers were sent in and broke into the people’s houses, massacring women and children. One man had his throat cut and was left dying in a pool of blood. They carried off a number of women. Not long after, bands of Foreign Legionaries again swept into Yen Ninh Street nearby, ransacking the houses, killing and wounding more people.
At noon, the French lined up their troops from the citadel gate to Long Bien bridge. They besieged the police station of Precinct II.
At the Yen Phu power plant, where a mixed guard team had been set up just a few days previously, a French soldier suddenly turned his gun on a Vietnamese soldier sharing sentry duty with him and shot him dead. Immediately all the workers in the plant staged a vigorous demonstration to condemn the French troops’ action.
In the afternoon, the French pounded Hang Bun Street with mortar shells. Bands of Foreign Legionaries swarmed into the streets, breaking the glass windows of many houses.
Strictly observing the orders of their leaders our army and self-defence forces refrained from opening fire. They continued to consolidate their positions and calmly followed the enemy’s movements.
Later on, we learned that, on December 17, Valluy had unexpectedly left Saigon for Haiphong to meet Debès. Morlière and Sainteny were also summoned there.
On the morning of December 18, the city seemed quiet. Our men working at the Hanoi Joint Liaison and Control Commission were not so busy with urgent phone calls from various places as they had been the previous day. But, towards the end of the morning’s work captain De Chatillon, head of the French Joint Liaison and Control team, handed us a letter which read as follows:
“The French army command here is obliged to take measures to ensure the safety of its forces, and of the French civilians and foreign nationals. Therefore troops will be sent to be stationed in the Department of Finance and at the house of the chief of the Communications Service on Pasquier Boulevard1. Anything which may obstruct the French troops’ movement must be removed, otherwise the French troops will destroy it themselves.”
This was the first ultimatum from the French in Hanoi.
Two hours later, at midday, fully loaded French troop carriers, escorted by tanks and armoured cars, charged into the streets around the citadel area. They besieged the Hong Ha, East Gate and Hang Chieu areas. They sent armoured cars to destroy our ramparts and trenches on Hang But street.
In the afternoon, towards the end of working hours, the French team on the Joint Control Commission handed us a second ultimatum from the French command:
“On December 18, 1946, the Hanoi city police failed to perform its task properly. If that state of affairs continues the French army will take charge of security within Hanoi by the morning of December 20, 1946, at the latest.”
Our team of the Joint Liaison and Control Commission made a prompt reply:
“The allegation that the Vietnamese police failed to perform its task properly is a complete lie. The French army should not take this as a pretext to violate our rights in the maintenance of security, the supreme right of the free State of Viet Nam.”
That same day, while enemy reconnaissance aircraft were flying over Hanoi, in a village by the side of a small river in Ha Dong, the Party Central Committee met to assess the situation and work out an appropriate policy. Uncle Ho asked us:
“How are the crops this year? Have the people enough to eat?”
Some comrades replied:
“The weather this year has been favourable. A bumper harvest was reaped in many places. The people are better off than last year.”
Looking pleased, he asked again:
“If the war breaks out, have we got enough rice to feed our soldiers?”
“The districts in the outskirts of Hanoi and the provinces have built food store to supply the army. Every village has a supply committee.”
“How is the destruction of communication lines getting on?”
“All the highways around Hanoi have been cut. Enemy mechanized forces can no longer use them. But as for the roads on top the dykes, we are not destroying them, only building earthworks to block them. That’s why it is taking a longer time.”
After analysing the situation in all respects, he said:
“The French scheme of extending the war has moved to a new phase. The period of conciliatory efforts is over. We have made concessions. But the more we concede, the more the enemy presses forward. Our people will not go back to another life of slavery. Our people’s resistance war will be long and hard but it is bound to be victorious.”
Early on December 19, we received yet another ultimatum from the French army command, the third within two days. The demands they made on us were: to disarm the self-defence forces in Hanoi; to cease all preparations for a resistance war; to hand over to the French army the maintenance of security in the city.
Compared with their demands of the previous day, the French had gone one step further: the disarmament of our self-defence forces.
What had happened in Haiphong in late November was happening here now. In Haiphong, Debès had also made a number of conditions which he could be sure would be unacceptable to us before opening his offensive to take the city.
President Ho wrote a short letter to the Commissioner of the French Republic in North Indochina:
“The situation has become more tense these last few days. This is very regrettable. Pending the decision from Paris, I hope that you, together with Mr. Giam, will find a solution in order to improve the present atmosphere.”
Uncle Ho gave the letter to Hoang Minh Giam. Our Liaison and Control team informed their French counterpart of Comrade Giam’s request to see the Commissioner of the French Republic that very afternoon. Sainteny refused to receive him, saying that Mr. Giam should wait till the following day.
The following day, December 20, was the day on which, according to Morlière’s declaration, the French army would “take action” if we didn’t hand over to them the right to handle security affairs. Did the French mean to refuse all settlements? Replying to the ‘Paris-Saigon’ paper in an interview a few days back, the Commissioner of the French republic had said that France was standing in a position of strength and would calmly wait. For half a month, now all French soldiers, excepting those sent out in the streets for ravaging and provocation, had been forbidden to leave camp. Time was flying swiftly by. When would they start? Tomorrow or even earlier?
On the afternoon of December 19, together with Tran Quoc Hoan and Vuong Thua Vu, I visited the army and the people who were preparing for combat.
At O Cho Dua in the suburbs, many houses were securely closed but trams were still running. Those coming from Ha Dong were almost empty. Some old persons and children continued to leave Hanoi on rickshaws hemmed in amid bundles of clothes and bedding. Little did these evacuees suspect that it would be many years before they could return to their beloved streets. A few self-defence members, one carrying a shotgun, another with a grenade tucked under his belt, were checking the mine holes drilled into the tree trunks.
We climbed over a rampart to enter Kham Thien street. While O Cho Dua looked deserted, Kham Thien street was all noise and animation. Groups of self-defence forces, accompanied by a few National Defence guards wearing caps with golden-starred badges, were walking up and down exchanging opinions. Carts full of earth were rolling out of the alleys, pushed by enthusiastic men and women and accompanied by cheerful shouts to the people to keep clear. Some restaurants and cafés were still open.
The rampart at the other end of Kham Thien street, near the railway station, was full of action. Earth walls were being heightened. Some railway sections had been inserted, their heads pointing outwards. Two self-defence corps members, rifles in hands, were standing sentry in their fieldworks. Just a few score metres away; in front of them, was the Shell Oil depot where there was a garrison of French soldiers. And not much further on was the railway station where there were also French soldiers. Meanwhile the self-defence members were driving wooden pillars into the ground and strengthening the rampart with earth. Women were bringing up more earth and steel sleepers. A service team was singing to cheer them on. From time to time, the roar of an armoured car could be heard from the direction of the railway station.
We inspected the firing positions and talked with the combatants. They cheerfully told us that a French armoured car had come at noon, but when the driver saw the upturned earthen pots on the ground in front of our rampart, he thought they were land mines and pulled back.
These young people were making energetic preparations for a fierce battle against the enemy. They knew but little about war. Nevertheless, talking with them, I could see that they were awaiting it with optimism and confidence. They had no idea what would befall them on the morrow. But their appearance told us that they would surely overcome all trials.
Dusk fell. The whole city was unusually quiet. It was cold and dry. The houses seemed to shrink back and to be standing warming themselves in the yellowish electric light. Outwardly, the city seemed to grow lazy in the cold and go to bed early. But beneath this calm surface, line upon line of surging wave was ready to rise. All the combatants were present at their posts. It was reported that not a single French soldier was to be seen in the restaurants, bars or streets. And enemy armoured cars began to push out and stood blocking some crossroads...
(1) Now, Dien Bien Phu Boulevard.