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The doors of the three-story old house, built in 1963 at 145 Tran Quang Khai Street, Tan Dinh Ward, District 1, are open every day. It is the Saigon Commando Museum, once a secret base of the Saigon Commandos, operating under the guise of a cyclo-rickshaw manufacturing and furniture-making facility for the Independence Palace, helping the commandos carry out operations within the city without detection.
The Saigon Commando Museum is now located at the very site where the Saigon Commandos previously operated.
The manager greeted them softly, his voice booming as he slowly recounted how the commandos had operated secretly right under the noses of the former Saigon government. "The Saigon commandos didn't just have underground bunkers; they also had 'above-ground' bunkers right in broad daylight. Uncle Nam Lai played the role of a wealthy contractor, driving luxury cars and having connections with all the high-ranking officials of the old government. The enemy only saw a flamboyant boss; no one suspected that he was the one directly designing and supervising the construction of secret weapons depots located right next to the enemy's headquarters."
The "Uncle Nam Lai" that the manager mentioned was Tran Van Lai, a Saigon commando who was in charge of building a network of secret bases in the inner city of Saigon, organizing the transportation of weapons, documents, and forces into the city center, and preparing for major battles, especially the Tet Offensive of 1968 (providing maps, routes, storage facilities, etc.).
Venturing deeper into the exhibition space, I stopped in front of a vintage Italian-style Vespa – a type of scooter that was very popular in Saigon during those years.
The area recreates the cover of the Saigon commando soldiers of the past, complete with motorcycles and other very ordinary items.
Next to it, on a display board brightly colored red, is Uncle Nam Lai's handcrafted woodworking tool set.
Not only did he play the role of the boss, but he also directly used this very set of tools, including planes, chisels, square rulers, and pliers, to measure and do interior work in the buildings he renovated. That's how the soldiers used their profession as a cover for secret activities.
Uncle Nam Lai's handcrafted woodworking tool kit
The manager pointed to a rough log that looked like ordinary firewood on the outside, but when opened, the inside had been cleverly hollowed out to neatly conceal hand grenades and mortar shells. "This is how we smuggled 'goods' into the city. When the enemy inspected the vehicle, they only saw the wood and firewood; they never suspected that inside was a massive explosive device ready to shake their stronghold," the manager excitedly explained.
Next to it was a display of combat weapons, from rifles and magazines to various types of grenades and even Claymore directional mines. In another corner, a large mortar stood imposingly beside a simple bicycle used for liaison work. These artifacts demonstrate the meticulous preparation and masterful camouflage skills of the Saigon Commando Unit, transforming the most ordinary objects into sharp weapons to attack the enemy right in their strongholds.
At the foot of the battle map were blocks of TNT explosives and detonators – the most fearsome weapon of the Saigon Commando Unit. The manager pointed to the tightly wrapped and bound explosive charges, explaining that these were the "steel fists" that had caused devastating explosions at enemy administrative and military buildings. Those small, silver detonators, when combined with the TNT in wooden crates, could destroy even the strongest walls.
To smuggle dozens of kilograms of explosives through numerous checkpoints into the city center, the soldiers had to disguise them in the bottom of Citroen cars or hide them under layers of ordinary goods. Seeing these explosives during those historic April days, we understand even more deeply the unwavering courage of the commando soldiers, who carried "death" with them in exchange for the rebirth of the nation.
The explosive charges and detonators were commonly used by the Saigon Commando Unit in major battles.
Alongside the arsenal reeking of gunpowder were ordinary household items, yet they carried extraordinary missions. The manager pointed to a worn-out iron lunchbox and an antique patterned thermos flask, explaining that these had once been used by female commando soldiers to transport documents and gold. Outwardly, they appeared to be just a worker's lunchbox, but beneath the bottom of the container or inside the thermos flask lay secret compartments concealing revolutionary codes.
Everyday items were repurposed by commandos as disguises to transport secret letters and documents.
In the corner of the desk, a typewriter, rusted with time, was the tool that Mrs. Nguyen Thi Phuong, who used as secretary and typist for Major General Tran Hai Phung - Commander of the Saigon-Gia Dinh Military Region, used to type official documents, secret letters, and directives sent to combat units in Saigon from the late 1960s to 1975, before donating it to the museum.
The antique typewriter was donated to the museum by Ms. Nguyen Thi Phuong.
Amidst the clacking of typewriters and the crackling of radios, battle plans for April 30th were quietly formulated right under the watchful eyes of spies. These relics remind us that the liberation war was not just about gunfire, but also about the tenacity and intelligence displayed in every meal and every radio broadcast by those living in enemy territory.
Chemicals used by Ms. Nguyen Thi Phuong to write confidential letters and documents.
After going through all those stories, the final artifact left everyone momentarily silent. It was a commemorative notebook, open to a page bearing General Vo Nguyen Giap's handwritten note from February 15, 2010. On the page, the General's words clearly stated: "I highly commend the spirit of the collective of comrades, officers, and soldiers of the Saigon Special Forces who are currently preserving the historical site of the weapons storage bunker used in the attack on the Independence Palace during the Tet Offensive of 1968."
The handwritten notes of General Vo Nguyen Giap are placed prominently in a corner of the room.
Looking at the rusty pistol, the dented water canteen, or the worn-out traditional Vietnamese clothes displayed in the cupboard, I see an entire generation come to life. They were the truck drivers, the street vendors, or the gentle teachers during the day, but when night fell or when the order to attack was given, they transformed into the most elite soldiers.
The manager's enthusiastic recounting of the battles at the Presidential Palace or the US Embassy made me feel as if I were reliving the atmosphere of those days of the general offensive. It was a breathtaking battle of wits between people who had to live a "double life," fraught with danger, to protect the network and their ideals until their last breath.
As April arrives, the museum's atmosphere seems to thicken with memories and emotions. The curator confided that every year, around this time, the museum welcomes many veteran visitors. Some have white hair, others bear the scars of war, but when they sit here, in front of the old artifacts, they still laugh and talk as heartily as they did when they were young.
They said, "Seeing the city so developed and bustling now, we are very happy." But the more happy they are, the more they mourn their comrades who fell just before victory. April 30th is not only a day of joy but also a day to remind us "how precious this peace is."
