This week’s anniversary will pass quietly in a rejuvenated nation where the young are more interested in tech and social media than memories of the past

A solitary fisherman crouches in the surf, his eyes skimming the surface for signs of movement in the shallows. A conical hat protects him from the afternoon sun. He is alone on the beach, which lies 14km north of the central Vietnamese city of Da Nang. Behind him, flies swarm around rubbish strewn across the sand. To a passerby it wouldn’t occur that anything of significance had ever happened here.

It was on this unremarkable stretch of Nam O Beach where, at 9.03am on 8 March 1965, 3,500 US marines disembarked from their landing crafts and waded on to Vietnam’s shores, becoming the first American ground troops to arrive in the country.

At the time, the US-backed government in South Vietnam was suffering from power struggles among its leadership and troops were deserting its army. Communist forces from North Vietnam were taking advantage, advancing down the Ho Chi Minh trail and gaining control in the countryside. Viet Cong guerrillas had attacked a US compound in the Central Highlands in February. Now, they were approaching Da Nang. General William Westmoreland requested two battalions of US marines to provide support, and at this crucial turning point, President Lyndon B Johnson agreed.

The landing was carefully stage managed. The troops were given a warm welcome by a delegation of smiling children and traditionally dressed Vietnamese women brandishing garlands of flowers. A sign held aloft read: “Welcome, Gallant Marines.” It was an incongruous beginning for the marines, and their mission – to defend the city’s air base during the Operation Rolling Thunder bombing campaign against targets in the North – seemed straightforward. Nobody on the beach that day had any idea of the long and tortuous conflict that was to follow. By the end of the year, nearly 185,000 troops had been deployed as the war escalated. A decade later when Saigon fell and US soldiers made their final exit, 2.7m Americans had served in Vietnam – more than 58,000 were killed.

Finding Vietnam's war children – in pictures Read more

Vietnam was left in ruins. Ho Chi Minh had warned the US “you will kill 10 of our men, and we will kill one of yours, and in the end it will be you who tire of it,” and in the end, he was proved right. Vietnam was reunified, but at enormous cost. An estimated 3 million Vietnamese were killed, including 2 million civilians. Hundreds of thousands were seriously injured and disabled. Farmland was contaminated by exposure to 43m litres of Agent Orange. The countryside had been littered with 14m tonnes of ordnance, a significant proportion of it unexploded. Millions of people had been displaced. Famine and disease were rife.

Back in the west, a succession of war films has ensured that 50 years on in America, Vietnam is still synonymous with war. But the Vietnam of today is a vastly different place.

In the last two decades, Vietnam has transformed from one of Asia’s poorest countries to one of its fastest developing. The decision of the Communist government to implement wide-ranging economic reforms, known as “Doi Moi” (renovation) in 1986 opened up its new “socialist-oriented market economy” to the world. The subsequent economic growth has led to rapid improvements in living standards and sharp declines in poverty. More than 7.8 million international visitors came to Vietnam last year for business and tourism.

Culturally, much has changed too. Visiting Americans may be surprised to see McDonald’s, Starbucks and KFC. Cinemas show many of the latest Hollywood releases; urban malls sell Levi’s jeans and Converse shoes; iPads are everywhere.

In many respects, Da Nang represents the nation’s astonishing development in microcosm. Today, it is a modern and well-run metropolis of high-rise buildings, sweeping tree-lined boulevards and dramatic river bridges. Under the visionary leadership of Nguyen Ba Thanh – the city’s populist former leader, whose death last month sparked an outpouring of public grief – the shacks and tin huts of old have been replaced by stylish office blocks, motorbike showrooms, mega malls and trendy cafes. The spotless sands of “China Beach”, once a popular R&R spot for US soldiers, are now dominated by a long line of lavish luxury hotels and five-star golf courses. The air base fought over so fiercely is now a modern international airport, connecting Da Nang with the world.

Chuck Palazzo is an American war veteran who was stationed in Da Nang in 1970-72. He returned to the city in 2008 and has lived here ever since as a member of Veterans for Peace campaigning on behalf of victims of Agent Orange and unexploded ordnance. “Coming back here was very much a culture shock,” he says. “To see how the people have risen up from the ashes, literally, is just incredible. The young people especially are very much looking forward. They’re interested in technology, social media, banking, economics, participating in the word community. It’s good to see.”

These days, the horrors of war are rarely discussed. While Reunification Day is celebrated as a national holiday, and the anniversaries of Ho Chi Minh’s birthday and the Communist party’s formation are also marked, other milestones pass quietly. There will be no public reflection on the 50th anniversary of the Nam O Beach landing. “People do not really talk about it [the war] in detail, especially the American side of things,” explains Nguyen Quang Nam, a motorbike tour guide whose company employs some former South Vietnamese soldiers to drive tourists around the country.

Even in Da Nang’s military museum, there is little in the way of detailed information on the battles here. Instead, large groups of schoolchildren are taken on daily tours around a dramatic collection of seized American tanks, fighter jets and helicopters, marvelling at these trophies of war while listening to a military guide performing a narrative of the heroic victory.

Despite this lack of openness, the war has influenced the young generation in many subtle ways, argues Jonathan London, a professor of Asian and international studies at the City University of Hong Kong: “It does play a significant role in their lives, particularly in places like Da Nang where the fighting and its destructive impacts were widely and severely felt. It was experienced not only as an international war involving a global superpower but also a civil war that divided communities and even families. A lot of that history is subdued. But it’s there.”

On the surface though, there is a sense that the Vietnamese people have moved on with their lives. At a downtown Da Nang bar, a group of colleagues from a state-run telecommunications company meet for a drink after work. “We have no problem with Americans,” says Tran Ngoc Hao. “Things are very open now. People in Vietnam are thinking more about the future rather than the past.”

Palazzo was struck by this attitude of tolerance when he first returned to Vietnam. “When I arrived at Hanoi airport I was paranoid as hell that the immigration folks had my name in some database labelling me as a marine. I was sweating as I went up to the desk. But the guy just looked at my passport and with a big smile on his face said, ‘Come on in, you’re welcome here.’ It has been that way for me ever since. I have never once experienced any animosity.”

Political ties have also evolved greatly in the years since the Vietnam-US relationship was normalised under the Clinton presidency in 1995. Two-way trade reached $36.3bn last year. Now the two countries are negotiating the terms of the Trans Pacific Partnership, and the US increasingly sees Vietnam as a key partner in its “pivot to Asia”. “No matter how you look at it, Vietnam and America have developed a special relationship,” says London. “I think leaders in both countries are keen to make relations special for all the right reasons.”

Palazzo hopes that in time his countrymen will change their perspective about Vietnam. “The Vietnamese are not the folks as the American media portrayed them [for 10 years during the war].

“They’re human beings, and my hope is that someday the Americans view Vietnam as they do today Japan and the European countries who we were at war with. It’d be good if more came here to see for themselves.”

Hoa and his colleagues are ready to welcome them with open arms. “Of course, we want to be friends with all people,” he declares passionately. “We will give everything now to develop our country in the future.” Lifting his beer bottle for a toast, he proudly exclaims: “To peace! To progress! To Vietnam!”

Back on Nam O, the lone fisherman stands up and gathers his equipment. A small fishing boat sails past a little offshore, a Vietnamese flag unfurled proudly in the breeze. Serenely, he waves a hand in acknowledgement, and turns to head towards home along the empty beach.