Fifty years ago, my father, an American war reporter, climbed over the wall of the U.S. Embassy in Saigon and scrambled onto a chopper that took off from a roof in the mission.

五十年前，我的父亲，一名美国战地记者，翻过美国驻西贡大使馆的围墙，爬上了一架从使馆屋顶起飞的直升机。

“My last view of Saigon was through the tail door of the helicopter,” he wrote in the Chicago Daily News. “Then the door closed — closed on the most humiliating chapter in American history.”

“我最后一次看到西贡是通过直升机的尾舱门，”他在《芝加哥每日新闻》上写道。“然后，门关上了——美国历史上最耻辱的一章就此合上了。”

My father believed in the domino theory, how a cascade of Communism might deluge Asia. A veteran of World War II, he wrote a book titled, without much irony, “Not Without the Americans.”

我父亲相信多米诺骨牌理论，认为共产主义洪流可能会席卷亚洲。作为第二次世界大战的老兵，他写了一本书，名为《不能没有美国人》(Not Without the Americans)的书，这其中并无多少讽刺意味。

1975年4月，美国驻越南西贡大使馆，左侧穿白衬衫、戴眼镜的是凯耶斯·比奇。

The title seems an anachronism, from a time when paternalistic Americans, confident in their own flawed democracy, envisioned a world shaped in their own image. Half a century after the pullout of the last American troops from Vietnam, it’s clear how Asia is learning to live, if not without the Americans, then with a new great power: China.

这本书的名字在今天似乎已经不合时宜，因为在那个时代，带着家长式优越感的美国人对自己存在缺陷的民主充满信心，企图按照自己的形象塑造世界。在最后一批美国军队从越南撤出半个世纪后，很明显，亚洲正在学着适应一种新的现实，即便不是全然摆脱了美国的影响，也已然学会与另一个大国共处：中国。

Beijing’s imprint is everywhere, from the contested waters of the South China Sea, where delicate coral reefs have been churned up to build Chinese military bases, to remote villages in Nepal, where Chinese goods are flooding markets via Chinese-built roads.

北京的印记无处不在，在有争议的南海水域，脆弱的珊瑚礁被用来建造中国的军事基地；在尼泊尔的偏远村庄，中国商品正通过中国修建的道路涌入当地市场。

一艘中国海警船向一艘菲律宾海军租用船只发射水炮，该船去年正在为驻扎在南海第二托马斯浅滩的部队执行例行补给任务。

President Trump’s back-and-forth on tariffs, the blunting of American diplomacy and the dismantling of the agency for American aid — and with it hundreds of programs in Asia — feels like yet another withdrawal, and one that was not even compelled by military force.

特朗普总统在关税问题上的反复，美国外交影响力的减弱，以及美国援助机构的解散（还包括该机构在亚洲的数百个项目）让人感觉像是又一次撤退，而且这一次甚至不是迫于军事压力。

When an earthquake struck Myanmar in late March, killing more than 3,700 people, the United States was far slower than China in sending assistance. Then it fired American aid workers while they were on the ground there.

3月下旬，缅甸发生地震，造成3700多人死亡，美国的援助速度比中国慢了不少。然后，美国还解雇了正在当地工作的美国援助人员。

“America used to stand for hope and democracy, but now they are missing when we needed them most,” said Ko Aung Naing San, a resident of Sagaing, the earthquake’s devastated epicenter. “China sent help quickly.”

“美国曾经代表着希望和民主，但现在，在我们最需要他们的时候，他们却不见了，”地震震中实皆的居民昂奈桑说。“中国迅速提供了帮助。”

But in his next breath, Mr. Aung Naing San questioned Beijing’s intentions in Myanmar. He worried about China plundering Myanmar’s natural resources and pleaded for the United States to help. When a military junta overthrew the country’s elected leaders four years ago, a pro-democracy resistance begged for America to do something, anything, to repel the dictators.

但昂奈桑随后对北京在缅甸的意图提出质疑。他担心中国会掠夺缅甸的自然资源，并请求美国提供帮助。四年前，一个军政府推翻了缅甸的民选领导人时，一个支持民主的抵抗组织曾经恳求美国做点什么，哪怕做点什么也好，来击退独裁者。

Washington will not intervene in Myanmar; another Southeast Asian quagmire is the last thing any U.S. administration wants. But American ideals and images, even when its bedrock institutions may be under threat at home, continue to resonate overseas: Hollywood, bluejeans, gauzy notions of freedom.

华盛顿不会插手缅甸事务——对于任何一届美国政府而言，最不愿意看到的局面是自己陷入另一个东南亚泥潭。但是，美国的理想和形象，即使当它的基本制度可能在国内受到威胁的时候，仍然能在海外引起共鸣：好莱坞、牛仔裤、那些朦胧的自由概念。

In March, I interviewed Gen. Chhum Socheat, the deputy defense minister of Cambodia. The United States had helped refurbish parts of a military base there, but the Cambodian government later turned to China instead for a complete modernization. The American construction was razed, and in early April, the Chinese-built facility was unveiled with Chinese military officers in attendance.

今年3月，我采访了柬埔寨国防部副部长素切特将军。美国曾帮助翻新当地一个军事基地的部分设施，但柬埔寨政府后来转而求助于中国进行全面的现代化改造。美国建造的设施被夷为平地，4月初，中国军官出席了这座中国建造设施的揭幕仪式。

两艘军舰停泊在柬埔寨南部海岸附近的里姆海军基地码头（中）。今年4月，柬埔寨正式启用了由中国翻新的海军基地，引起了美国的关注。

As we were walking out of the interview, General Chhum Socheat, who had spent an hour defending Cambodia’s authoritarian leaders, patted my arm gently.

当我们走出采访现场时，花了一个小时为柬埔寨独裁领导人辩护的素切特轻轻地拍了拍我的手臂。

“Your American democracy, it is a little difficult now?” he inquired with surprising concern.

“你们美国的民主，现在有点困难了吗？”他带着令人吃惊的关切问道。

I made an ambiguous noise. He pressed on.

我含糊地应了一声。他并未就此打住。

Cambodia, he said, was still recovering from the destruction of the Khmer Rouge years, during which radical Communists razed the society and oversaw the deaths of up to one-fifth of the country’s population.

他说，柬埔寨仍在从红色高棉统治时期的破坏中恢复。在红色高棉统治期间，激进的共产党人将柬埔寨社会夷为废墟，导致全国五分之一的人口死亡。

“We are developing our democracy, like America, but first we need peace and stability,” he said.

他说：“我们正在像美国一样发展民主，但首先我们需要和平与稳定。”

I doubt that Cambodia, where a hereditary dictatorship has erased the political opposition and kneecapped free speech, is truly on a democratic trajectory. And one reason that Cambodians embraced the Khmer Rouge in 1975 was a brutal American bombing campaign that spilled over from the Vietnam War.

在柬埔寨，一个世袭独裁政权抹杀了政治反对派，扼杀了言论自由，我怀疑它是否真的走上了民主的轨道。1975年，柬埔寨人接受红色高棉的一个原因是，在越南战争期间，美国的残酷轰炸蔓延到了柬埔寨。

Still, the deputy defense minister’s reference to American democracy meant something enduring about ideals. General Chhum Socheat said he wished America well, and he urged me to believe, against significant evidence otherwise, that Cambodia wanted to be with the Americans, too.

尽管如此，国防部副部长对美国民主的提及意味着一些关于理想的持久的东西。素切特说，他希望美国人一切顺利，他劝我相信，柬埔寨也希望与美国人站在一起，尽管有大量证据表明并非如此。

About 25 years ago, shortly before the previous big anniversary of the Americans’ departure from what is now Ho Chi Minh City, I met with Pham Xuan An, a Vietnamese reporting colleague of my father’s. Uncle An, as he instructed me to call him, sat at a cafe where foreign correspondents, spies and the occasional novelist like Graham Greene used to sip thick coffees sweetened with condensed milk.

大约25年前，在美国人从现在的胡志明撤离的上一个重大周年纪念日前夕，我遇到了范春隐，他是我父亲的一位越南记者同事。隐叔——他让我这样称呼他——坐在一家咖啡馆里，外国记者、间谍和偶尔出现的小说家（比如格雷厄姆·格林），常在这里喝加了炼乳的浓咖啡。

范春隐，2005年摄于胡志明市，他曾是美国新闻周刊《时代》的越战记者，过着为北越担任高级间谍的双重生活。他于2006年去世，享年79岁。

He breathed raggedly from emphysema, the same smoking-related disease that had killed my father years before. Uncle An wore a big watch on his thin wrist, a gift from my father, he said.

他因肺气肿而呼吸急促，数年前，我父亲也是死于这种与吸烟有关的疾病。隐叔瘦削的手腕上戴着一块大手表，他说那是我父亲送给他的礼物。

“Mr. Beech was a patriot,” he said, pronouncing the word in the French way.

”比奇先生是一个爱国者，”他用法语发音说出我父亲的姓氏。

Uncle An, too, was a patriot. He worked as a correspondent for Time magazine, but secretly held the rank of colonel in the North Vietnamese Army, sending intelligence to the Communists by invisible ink. He believed that Vietnam should strive for true independence, not be a pawn in an imperial game.

隐叔也是一个爱国者。他曾是《时代》杂志的记者，暗地里却是北越军队的上校，他用隐形墨水向共产党人传递情报。他认为越南应该争取真正的独立，而不是成为帝国博弈的棋子。

Despite his years of loyal spying, Uncle An may have been tainted by his long association with Americans. His career in the Socialist Republic of Vietnam never quite reached the heights he had hoped. His son studied in the United States, just as he had once, then returned home.

尽管隐叔多年来一直忠诚从事地从事间谍活动，但可能因为长期与美国人打交道而受到影响。他在越南社会主义共和国的事业从未达到他所希望的高度。他的儿子在美国学习，就像曾经的他那样，然后回了国。

One day in the closing days of the Vietnam War, Uncle An told me, my father had wanted to go to a battlefield. A former U.S. Marine, my father was drawn to the trenches, filled with young men drafted into a war that was already curdling into a byword for American defeat. Uncle An told my father to go somewhere else.

隐叔告诉我，在越南战争即将结束的一天，我父亲曾想上战场看看。作为一名前美国海军陆战队员，我父亲被战壕吸引，那里挤满了被征召入伍的年轻人，这场战争已经成为美国失败的代名词。隐叔叫我父亲去别的地方。

That day, the North Vietnamese attacked the place my father had not gone on Uncle An’s advice. My father lived while American soldiers died.

那天，北越军队袭击了我父亲在隐叔的劝告下没有去的那个地方。我父亲活了下来，美国士兵死去了。

“I like Americans,” Uncle An said.

“我喜欢美国人，”隐叔说。