Update on famous Siamese twins in Vietnam

Duc is honored at the Japanese Consulate in Ho Chi Minh City (Mainichi photo)

I met Nguyen Duc in Saigon when he was 13 years old and in 6^th grade. He was living in Tu Du Hospital on a floor reserved for Peace Village International, a German charity that specialized in treating kids with birth deformities. There were 36 children when I was there; many were suspected victims of the Agent Orange defoliant which was widely used during the war. Duc told me he wanted to be a doctor.

At age 13, Duc was in a wheelchair

I was heartened recently when his present-day photo was published in a story by the Japanese daily newspaper Mainichi. Duc, who is now 40, was being presented with an award by the Japanese Foreign Ministry. Not only was he very much alive, but he was out of his wheelchair and able to stand on his only leg, with the assistance of a crutch.

I was introduced to Duc, and his brother, Viet, during a 1994 research project for the CBS News documentary 60 Minutes. The conjoined twins had undergone successful separation surgery at the age of seven. When I photographed Viet, he was confined to bed and was unresponsive. Sadly, the Mainichi news story said that Viet had died at the age of 26, from “pneumonia and other complications.”

I snapped this photo of Viet 13 years before he died.

My mission for 60 Minutes was to advance a major TV magazine story on the tragedy of Agent Orange in Vietnam. Correspondent Ed Bradley was the designated reporter. I have written extensively about my investigation, which included a field trip into the Mekong Delta, visits with grieving parents in their villages and onsite visits to various institutions. The full story is told in my digital book, Broadcasters: Untold Chaos.

Of the many conjoined fetuses that were referred to Tu Du Hospital, Duc is the most fortunate. There is a “collection room” at Tu Du that holds the grotesque remains of many aborted births, submerged in formaldehyde—Siamese twins and triplets among the specimens.  

At the time, I sympathized with the many devastated families who decided to terminate full term births, but I did not have a personal stake in the story. Now I do. I was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease two years ago, and my doctors at the Veterans Administration say it is likely caused by exposure to Agent Orange. I was a young Marine in South Vietnam in 1969-70.

In search of Agent Orange victims in the Mekong Delta

Beyond meeting Duc 28 years ago, we now have another common bond in our suspected connection to the infamous wartime herbicide. Seeing his contemporary photo denotes a rare triumph in the continuing saga of Agent Orange.

According to the Parkinson’s Foundation, approximately 1-million Americans are now living with the hideous disease; about one in 10 are veterans. My doctors at the VA are seeing a dramatic increase in Parkinson’s patients as symptoms emerge decades after exposure.

American organizations like Veterans for Peace have sent representatives to Vietnam to offer support for Agent Orange awareness. The U.S. Government has provided funding to clean up major toxic sites where the chemical operations were based.

Duc has realized one of his childhood dreams. While not a doctor, he is working at Tu Du Hospital where he has spent most of his life, and where he cares for orphans and other children who are thought to be victims of Agent Orange, like him.

He remains a national role model, just as he and his brother were as children when they survived the risky procedure to separate the twins. Given celebrity media status, I was among the foreign reporters who wanted to meet Duc, and I remember him as inquisitive, bright and energetic—the ideal poster boy to represent innocent Agent Orange victims.

Aborted fetuses, badly deformed, are held in the "collection room."

During the award ceremony honoring him, Duc expressed a desire to leverage international support as Vietnam battles its Agent Orange legacy, saying, “I would like to make efforts in continuing to serve as a bridge between Japan and Vietnam.”

It’s been 60 years since the U.S. military launched Operation Ranch Hand, the widespread application of Agent Orange and other herbicides. Personnel adopted Smokey Bear as their unofficial mascot, according to James G. Lewis, writing for the American Society for Environmental History. Placards soon appeared on Ranch Hand installations, according to Lewis, but Smokey’s signature slogan had been altered, in a way that is haunting today: “Only you can prevent a forest.” 

On a daily basis, Americans and Vietnamese get a frightening diagnosis that could be connected to Agent Orange exposure; cancers, nerve and brain disorders, among others. It is uncertain just how far the damage has moved into the gene pool, possibly triggering maladies for generations.

In 2016, when Vietnam Veterans of America hosted a hearing on the impact of defoliants in Des Moines, an old vet in the audience wore a T-shirt that expresses the frustration that Vietnam War veterans will carry for the rest of their lives: “And the body count continues.”