Warning: this post contains some disturbing images.
“I sent them a good boy and they made him a murderer.” Myrtle Meadlo
It’s the morning of 16 Mar 1968. You’re a soldier in the US’s Charlie Company. Intelligence has pinpointed VC activity in a region in central Vietnam and you’ve been helicoptered in. You and your colleagues run through the forest, ready for attack. But when you arrive, you find civilians in a quiet village having breakfast. Errrr….. So you round them up – men, women and children. And then the order comes in: kill everyone in the village. What do you do?
Over the next four hours, US soldiers set houses alight:
.. and tortured, raped and murdered 504 victims from 247 families:
Morally groundless, the killings were cowardly. Here, the older brother tries to protect his younger sibling. Both were finished off by the soldiers:
Twenty-four families were wiped out, three generations lost in one fateful morning. It wasn’t an isolated incident, but the My Lai massacre serves as the “flagship” village (at least four other villages were targeted at the same time).
Why? What caused the rampage on innocent, unarmed victims? It is a question that has been asked many times. In the words of one officer:
” [It] Did take a load off my conscience… The buddies we’d lost. It was just revenge, that’s all it was”
Theories have emerged. First let’s put it in context. America was losing the war, their death toll high. Soldiers had lost buddies, what was left of morale was ebbing away. Everyone was the enemy, the embodiment of communism.
“It’s the moment, it’s the opportunity”
Many of the soldiers involved tried to justify their actions on the basis that they were given an order. As a lawyer explained:
“There is no legal order that allows you to blast an 18-month-old baby in a trench”
An interview with one of the soldiers who was there that day was thought-provoking. He repeatedly tried to avoid direct questions, not explicitly confirming the extent of his involvement that day. He claimed that he “never even dreamt about Vietnam”. Other soldiers have sought help for Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), whilst many committed suicide, unable to cope with the knowledge of what they did that day. It reminded me of a famous experiment: participants were told that researchers were investigating how the body responds to stress and that, each time the subject (that they couldn’t see) answered a question incorrectly, they were to administer an electric shock, the force of which gradually increased. What was actually being researched was how far a “normal” human being would go when instructed to do something by someone in authority. Some participants refused, some didn’t. All agreed that the experience had made them realise what they were capable of.
I’d like to think that I’d have done the right thing. In the interests of balanced reporting it’s worth remembering that many of them did – some faked injuries to get removed from the zone, others refused to kill, others saved some of the civilians. But it’s easy to make that decision sat safe, comfortable and content. My life isn’t in danger. Nobody’s killing my friends. My mental well-being is good. My environment isn’t hostile. Without all these things, I’d still like to think I’d make the right decision. I can just get a glimpse of how the rabidness of war, combined with crazed officers, could easily escalate, but ultimately, there can be no justification for this abhorrent crime.
The ex-soldier who was interviewed was dealing with it by burying. He avoided questions, was defensive, showed little emotion on screen, gave shallow (“All I can do now is apologise for it”) and unsatisfactory (“I shot until I realised what was wrong”) responses. His interviewer had lost his family in the massacre. He tried to say the right thing, but I felt the ex-soldier’s conduct did nothing to ease his pain. Culturally, I’ve noticed that Asian males have less “machismo” than westerners. This contrast was painfully clear during the interview with the American keen to “save face”, and the Vietnamese softer. Had the American shown his real feelings (he was clearly distressed, and his agreement to even meet the victim showed his willingness, however small, to confront the situation: painful denial covering undeniable pain), I felt that, whilst families cannot be brought back, it would have helped the community to deal with the memory. Perpetrators’ remorse can be a powerful healer. But it was not to be.
Only one officer has ever been convicted of his role in the massacre (Lieutenant Calley). This is, in itself, disgusting. Especially given the evidence available for a prosecution and the blatant infringement of international law. Furthermore, I see nothing being done to stop it happening again. Those involved learn, but the lessons aren’t transmitted to younger generations, who then make the same mistakes: “never is the cycle of war broken”. Education and training should also cover the mental and pyschological aspects of warfare.
It is human tendency to seek reasons, justification and reconciliation. It is said that the My Lai massacre may have helped end US involvement in Vietnam: once reported (which, I believe, took about a year and is a strong argument for freedom of speech), it increased already very negative sentiment against the war. It was a massive waste of life that should never have happened. One can only hope that something good did indeed come of the loss.
Someone walked into my room this morning without knocking. It was only my door stop that prevented them coming face to face with me naked ( I’d just got out of the shower), even though I called them not to come in. No apology. Nothing. Very bad practice. And it’s not the first time.
Back at the train station in Da Nang, hanging with the locals in the waiting room (and notice the young chap on the right: the first Down’s person I’ve seen in Asia – I wondered what life is like here for him):
The soft seats were actually quite comfortable (much more so than English trains), with ample leg room, even for a westerner but I definitely made the right decision yesterday to get a soft bed – good ergonomics is making sure you can change position and that’s limited in a conventional seat.
But this seat had the distinct advantage of having a view.
And someone came through during the journey and swept and mopped the floor – being extensively acquainted with the floor of most South West trains, I’d be surprised if any of them were cleaned. Ever.
And the view once again reminded me of why I’m overlanding as much as I can even though flights are so cheap.
A grave in the middle of a series of ploughed fields. Apparently, in rural areas, the Vietnamese can bury their deceased wherever they chose (with reason, I assume). By burying them in their rice fields, they take comfort from taking in a piece of their relative, however small.
Random observation: the soft seats are, obviously, more expensive than the hard seats. People on the soft seats were also plumper. Me included.
“Taxi?”
“No, bus station”.
“I take you taxi. Very cheap. 140.”
“No thanks, where is the bus station?”
“Very far from here.”
“How far?”
“One kilometre.”
“OK, I walk.”
But I was also hungry. Really hungry. So I paused, and then, “Where you go?”
“Hoi An.”
“I take you, twenty-thousand.”
The guidebook had said it would be about 140,000 VND, so that was cheap. A little bit too cheap. I said I needed the toilet – it gave me thinking time. Too cheap. Bus it was. But when I came out, he’d gone and a gentleman in khakis and a smart top was there offering to take me for 140… then 120… then 100. Now were were talking. Motos also have the advantage of being able to take you somewhere exact, not to a bus station that, when you arrive, you’ve no idea where you are in relation to the town (note: Tripadvisor maps are helping in this respect). Long story short: turns out he’s an “EasyRider” – a company that does bespoke tours throughout Vietnam. And they’ve a good reputation. I ate at local prices (thanks to “Hai”, pronounced “Hi”) and we set off for Hoi An. It was a 40 minute journey.
We stopped for a photo opportunity (and a look at a local fishing boat):
… when I noticed the giant Buddha further up the coast. Next minute, we were winging our way up there for an impromptu visit. “Go look, take your time, come back here.”
Marble mountains loomed as we came back, so we detoured again:
Yes, of course that’s a lift up the mountain. What else would it be, for goodness sake?
I wasn’t entirely sure what the marble mountain was about because Hai explained that the marble tat (sorry, artistic sculptures) were made of materials shipped in, but the views were good:
And the caves were impressive:
And another pagoda. Close up some bits looked like concrete, but perhaps I’m just being picky:
And so my transfer to Hoi An commenced with a tour of Da Nang – very useful as it meant I didn’t have to backtrack. It also saved me about $20. So I signed up for the two-day tour via the Ho Chi Minh trail. Everyone I’ve spoken to says I did the right thing. I hope so *fingers crossed*
With nowhere to stay, when we arrived Hai suggested a hotel. It’s always a tough one this, as it’s difficult to say no. But the room looked kinda okay, I was tired and it was getting late. So I checked in. I was to check out the next morning…
