On the night that Huyen's Great Grandmother died, I had tea with a 68-year-old man wearing a green jacket and a traditional Vietnamese bamboo army helmet. The man shook my hand many times and then began to tell everyone who would listen a story. The man started to talk about the war with America and how he had served in the war. With great pride he told about how he had given two American P.O.W.'s sandals because they had no shoes.
Two days later, at the funeral, Huyen mentioned to me for the first time that her Great Grandmother had just two children. One of her children was Huyen's Grandmother who I have spent lots of time with. Her other child was a son who was killed in the war with America. Like Huyen's Uncle who died fighting America, his body was never found. When I learned this, it was a kick to the gut. Huyen's Great Grandmother was always so good to me -- she would hold my hand as we drank tea every time I would visit her -- despite the fact that my country killed her only son. In Vietnam, having a son is of the utmost importance. A son is the person who will take care of his parents when they get old. America changed Huyen's Great Grandmother's life for the worse and she held no bitterness towards me.
At the funeral, Huyen's Grandfather and some other relatives took me over to the cemetery where many members of their family are buried. They pointed out who people were and lit incense on their graves. As we started to leave, I saw that one headstone was missing the ceramic box that contains the deceased person's bones. I asked why the box was missing and Huyen's Grandfather's brother told me that the person had died from the effects of Agent Orange. The government had recognized those who died from Agent Orange as deserving to be buried in a military cemetery and had thus moved the box. If you're counting, including Huyen's uncle, that's at least three relatives of Huyen's who died because of America.
One thing that I learned in Japan is that the Japanese have a great shame about War World II. One time over lunch with my Professor friend, talk of War World II came up. Basically the conversation went from me living in Vietnam, to the Vietnam War, to me saying something like, "Many countries including Japan have a history in Vietnam" (referring to the Japanese occupation of Vietnam during WWII). The Professor looked at me and with great sadness in his eyes said, "Japan has a great shame."
It occurred to me at the funeral that the majority of Americans don't feel a sense of shame about the Vietnam War. When Americans talk about the war we often say how it was a tragedy that nearly 60,000 Americans died and hundreds of thousands were injured for an unnecessary war. The media usually references the Vietnam war as what the American military shouldn't do again. i.e. Get in a war we can not win. Rarely do the majority of Americans or the media talk about the millions of Vietnamese we killed and frankly, the countless war crimes we committed like the use of chemical defoliants that have poisoned the ground here for decades. America has a great shame when it comes to the Vietnam War and shamefully most Americans don't feel it.
In America we have a saying, "Proud to be American." Frankly, there have been many times while living in Vietnam that I have not been proud to be American. I have a great shame about what my country did to the people of this country.
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6 comments:
Thank you so much Ben for this entry.
Shame of my country came to me one hot summer day in 1970 in a small village in central Vietnam. As an eighteen year old Marine squad leader, my company entered the village on a "search and destroy" mission. Supposedly this small peaceful looking village harbored enemy sympathizers. As we went through this village destroying what little personal possesions these people had I couldn't help but think of the effect we were having on these peoples lives. At my age and from the eyes of one who had always been taught to "Do unto others as you would have others do unto you" I began to feel shame. But that shame I felt as we moved through that community was only a foretaste of the ultimate shame that came to me just minutes latter in the center of the village. My squad met with another squad of Marines who had come in from the other direction. As I approached the other NCO squad leader I saw he had his pistol drawn and was pointing it into an open faced hut yelling in english for the people in the hut to come out. When I came close enough to see who was in the hut I saw an old woman, who I assumed was the Grandmother of the several screaming crying children that surronded her as if guarding her with their bodies. I'm not sure even to this day exactly what made me do what I did next but I do know it was something supernatural that gave me the strength to do it. I drew my pistol, cocked the hammer back, pointed it at the head of the other squad leader in my platoon and told him that the
second he pulled the trigger on his weapon he would be a dead man. It was as if everything was in slow motion. I had openly stated in front of my fellow Marines that I was going to take another Marines life if he killed a Vietnamese. He looked at me and saw my resolve to do exactly what I said I would do. No matter the unimaginable consequences. He dropped his weapon and I instructed my squad to stay in front of the hut until an interpreter could be brought in. It turned out the old woman was the grandmother and those children were trying to protect her from these terrifying Marines who were slowly approaching their hut,blowing things up and shooting people as we came closer to them. After the intepreter came he told us the Grandmother was paralized. I entered the hut, picked her up and carried her out as the children followed close behind. I sat her down under some shad of a tree while the rest of my company continued to wreak havoc on the rest of the village. Everything was destroyed that day. Water wells blown up houses destroyed lives ended. That day was a major turning point in my life. Maybe the shame you spoke of that Americans need to feel came that day. I feel it daily Ben. Please tell the Vietnamese people I am ashamed after all these years I am still shamed of what we did to hurt so many generations of people. Ben I can't begin to tell you how much your Blog has meant to me, all I can say is thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Ben, I didn't sign my post LH in KY
I'm crying while reading your post, LH in KY.
GS, that was such a meaningful post. You have gained so much from your experiences. These are things that nobody could teach you in words, but living through these experiences makes you feel so much more connected to them. After reading your post, I feel so emotional! Thank you for sharing your experiences with us. Very touching, I value all of your posts. I admire what you are doing so much!
FG
LH, Thanks for sharing your story with us. I received an email today from a friend saying that my blog has been totally worthwhile just for the affect it has had on you.
It is obvious that you carry lots of pain with you every minute of every day. However from the things you have written on my blog, it is clear that you saw the errors of the war and did your best to correct them. From protecting the grandmother and children in your story during your service to becoming a vocal anti-war advocate after the war, you can hang your head high.
I am touched my blog has meant so much to you. I know it must be comforting to witness my journey and know that the people of Vietnam haven't forgotten but they have forgiven.
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