Final Message from the U.S. Embassy in Saigon

This is the final message from the U.S. Embassy in Saigon on April 29th, 1975. President Gerald Ford ordered the evacuation of American and Vietnamese embassy staff on April 28th, starting a 16-hour helicopter airlift from the roof of the embassy. LTC John Guilmartin, now a Professor of History at the Ohio State University, reportedly flew the last helicopter out.

http://ourpresidents.tumblr.com/post/49258657013/president-ford-ordered-the-final-evacuation-of?utm_source=feedly

Guerilla War

Guerilla War

W. D. Ehrhart

It's practically impossible
to tell civilians
from the Viet Cong.

Nobody wears uniforms.
They all talk
the same language
(and you couldn't understand them
even if they didn't).

They tape grenades
inside their clothes,
and carry satchel charges
in their market baskets.

Even their women fight.
And young boys.
And girls.

It's practically impossible
to tell civilians
from the Viet Cong.

After awhile,
you quit trying.

http://www.wdehrhart.com/poem-guerrilla-war.html

The Blizzard of Sixty Six

The Blizzard of Sixty Six

W. D. Ehrhart

Snow came early here, and hard:
roads treacherous; wires down.
School authorities should have cancelled
the annual high school Christmas dance:
two couples died on the way home.
"Tragedy," the local papers declared,
but the snow kept falling.
Somewhere in a folder in a file
is a photograph of me in a uniform:
one stripe for PFC girl in a yellow gown.
I took her home through the falling snow,
kissed goodnight, and left for Asia.
All through that year, snow
fell and fell on the green rice,
on gray buffalo, thatched huts, green
patrols, and the mounting yellow dead.
Randy, class of '65, died
of permanent cold in the Mekong Delta;
Kenny, class of '66, died in a blizzard
of lead in the Central Highlands;
I came home with permanent chills,
the yellow nameless dead of Asia
crammed into my seabag, and all of us
looking for a reason.
We never found one. Presidents
come and go like snowdrifts
in driveways; generals come and go;
the earth goes on silently turning
and turning through its seasons,
and the snow keeps falling.

Crossing on the Mekong Ferry, Reading the August 14 New Yorker

Crossing on the Mekong Ferry, Reading the August 14 New Yorker

John Balaban

Near mud-tide mangrove swamps, under the drilling sun
the glossy cover, styled green print, struck the eye:
trumpet-burst yellow blossoms, grapevine leaves,
--nasturtiums or pumpkin flowers? They twined
in tangles by our cottage in Pennsylvania.
Inside, another article by Thomas Whiteside.
2, 4, 5-T, teratogenicity in births;
South Vietnam 1/7th defoliated, residue
in rivers, foods, and mother's milk.
With a scientific turn of mind I can understand
that malformations in lab mice may not occur in children,
but when, last week, I ushered hare-lipped, tusk-toothed kids
to surgery in Saigon, I wondered, what did they drink
that I have drunk. What dioxin, picloram, arsenic
have knitted in my cells, in my wife now carrying
our first child. Pigs were squealing in a truck.
Through the slats, I saw one lather the foam in his mouth.

http://www.chicagoreader.com/chicago/poetry-of-vietnam/Content?oid=875655

General MacArthur's Honor Guard

 General MacArthur's Honor Guard

LCDR Roberto J. Prinselaar, USCG (Ret)

We didn’t do much talking,

We didn’t raise a fuss.

But Korea really happened

So please - remember us.

We all just did our duty

But we didn’t win or lose.

A victory was denied us

But we didn’t get to choose.

We all roasted in the summer

In winter, we damn near froze.

Walking back from near the Yalu

With our blackened frozen toes.

Like the surf the Chinese kept coming

With their bugles in the night.

We fired into their masses

Praying for the morning light.

All of us just had to be there

And so many of us died.

But now we’re all but half forgotten

No one remembers how we tried.

We grow fewer with the years now

And we still don’t raise a fuss.

But Korea really happened

So please - remember us.

http://generalmacarthurshonorguard.com/Korean_War_Poem.php

Bloody War - The Cause

Bloody War  -  The Cause

Tom Walker 

When greed sups with the devil
And principles are shed
When power is corrupted
And truth stands on its head
When fear pervades the confused mind
And fools are easy led
When reason is a prisoner
The bell tolls for the dead.

http://www.warpoetry.co.uk/2nd_WW.html#Bloody

All Day It Has Rained

All Day It Has Rained

Alun Lewis

All day it has rained, and we on the edge of the moors
Have sprawled in our bell-tents, moody and dull as boors,
Groundsheets and blankets spread on the muddy ground
And from the first grey wakening we have found
No refuge from the skirmishing fine rain
And the wind that made the canvas heave and flap
And the taut wet guy-ropes ravel out and snap.
All day the rain has glided, wave and mist and dream,
Drenching the gorse and heather, a gossamer stream
Too light to stir the acorns that suddenly
Snatched from their cups by the wild south-westerly
Pattered against the tent and our upturned dreaming faces.
And we stretched out, unbuttoning our braces,
Smoking a Woodbine, darning dirty socks,
Reading the Sunday papers - I saw a fox
And mentioned it in the note I scribbled home; -
And we talked of girls and dropping bombs on Rome,

And thought of the quiet dead and the loud celebrities
Exhorting us to slaughter, and the herded refugees;

As of ourselves or those whom we
For years have loved, and will again
Tomorrow maybe love; but now it is the rain
Possesses us entirely, the twilight and the rain.

And I can remember nothing dearer or more to my heart
Than the children I watched in the woods on Saturday
Shaking down burning chestnuts for the schoolyard's merry play,
Or the shaggy patient dog who followed me
By Sheet and Steep and up the wooded scree
To the Shoulder o' Mutton where Edward Thomas brooded long
On death and beauty - till a bullet stopped his song.

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/all-day-it-has-rained/

The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner

The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner

Randall Jarrell

From my mother's sleep I fell into the State,
And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze.
Six miles from earth, loosed from its dream of life,
I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters.
When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose. 

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-death-of-the-ball-turret-gunner-2/

"The Vietnam War is over..."

                    President Gerald R. Ford's Address at a Tulane University Convocation

Mr. President, President Hurley, Senator Johnston, my good friends from the House of Representatives, Eddie Hebert, Dave Treen, Lindy Boggs, Lieutenant Governor Fitzmorris, students, faculty, alumni, and guests of Tulane University:

 

It is really a great privilege and a very high honor to have an opportunity of participating again in a student activity at Tulane University. And for this opportunity, I thank you very, very much.

Each time that I have been privileged to visit Tulane, I have come away newly impressed with the intense application of the student body to the great issues of our time, and I am pleased tonight to observe that your interest hasn't changed one bit. 

As we came into the building tonight, I passed a student who looked up from his book and said, "A journey of a thousand miles begins but with a single step." To indicate my interest in him, I asked, "Are you trying to figure out how to get your goal in life?" He said, "No, I am trying to figure out how to get to the Super Dome in September." [Laughter] Well, I don't think there is any doubt in my mind that all of you will get to the Super Dome. Of course, I hope it is to see the Green Wave [Tulane University] have their very best season on the gridiron. I have sort of a feeling that you wouldn't mind making this another year in which you put the Tigers [Louisiana State University] in your tank.

When I had the privilege of speaking here in 1968 at your "Directions '68" forum, I had no idea that my own career and our entire Nation would move so soon in another direction. And I say again, I am extremely proud to be invited back. 

I am impressed, as I undoubtedly said before -- but I would reiterate it tonight -- by Tulane's unique distinction as the only American university to be converted from State sponsorship to private status. And I am also impressed by the Tulane graduates who serve in the United States Congress: Bennett Johnston, Lindy Boggs, Dave Treen. 

Eddie Hebert, when I asked him the question whether he was or not, and he said he got a special degree: Dropout '28. [Laughter]

 

But I think the fact that you have these three outstanding graduates testifies to the academic excellence and the inspiration of this historic university, rooted in the past with its eyes on the future.

Just as Tulane has made a great transition from the past to the future, so has New Orleans, the legendary city that has made such a unique contribution to our great America. New Orleans is more, as I see it, than weathered bricks and cast-iron balconies. It is a state of mind, a meltingpot that represents the very, very best of America's evolution, an example of retention of a very special culture in a progressive environment of modern change. 

On January 8, 1815, a monumental American victory was achieved here -- the Battle of New Orleans. Louisiana had been a State for less than 3 years, but outnumbered Americans innovated, outnumbered Americans used the tactics of the frontier to defeat a veteran British force trained in the strategy of the Napoleonic wars. 

We as a nation had suffered humiliation and a measure of defeat in the War of 1812. Our National Capital in Washington had been captured and burned. So, the illustrious victory in the Battle of New Orleans was a powerful restorative to our national pride. 

Yet, the victory at New Orleans actually took place 2 weeks after the signing of the armistice in Europe. Thousands died although a peace had been negotiated. The combatants had not gotten the word. Yet, the epic struggle nevertheless restored America's pride. 

Today, America can regain the sense of pride that existed before Vietnam. But it cannot be achieved by refighting a war that is finished as far as America is concerned. As I see it, the time has come to look forward to an agenda for the future, to unify, to bind up the Nation's wounds, and to restore its health and its optimistic self-confidence. 

In New Orleans, a great battle was fought after a war was over. In New Orleans tonight, we can begin a great national reconciliation. The first engagement must be with the problems of today, but just as importantly, the problems of the future. That is why I think it is so appropriate that I find myself tonight at a university which addresses itself to preparing young people for the challenge of tomorrow. 

I ask that we stop refighting the battles and the recriminations of the past. I ask that we look now at what is right with America, at our possibilities and our potentialities for change and growth and achievement and sharing. I ask that we accept the responsibilities of leadership as a good neighbor to all peoples and the enemy of none. I ask that we strive to become, in the finest American tradition, something more tomorrow than we are today. 

Instead of my addressing the image of America, I prefer to consider the reality of America. It is true that we have launched our Bicentennial celebration without having achieved human perfection, but we have attained a very remarkable self-governed society that possesses the flexibility and the dynamism to grow and undertake an entirely new agenda, an agenda for America's third century. 

So, I ask you to join me in helping to write that agenda. I am as determined as a President can be to seek national rediscovery of the belief in ourselves that characterized the most creative periods in our Nation's history. The greatest challenge of creativity, as I see it, lies ahead. 

We, of course, are saddened indeed by the events in Indochina. But these events, tragic as they are, portend neither the end of the world nor of America's leadership in the world.

Let me put it this way, if I might. Some tend to feel that if we do not succeed in everything everywhere, then we have succeeded in nothing anywhere. I reject categorically such polarized thinking. We can and we should help others to help themselves. But the fate of responsible men and women everywhere, in the final decision, rests in their own hands, not in ours. 

America's future depends upon Americans -- especially your generation, which is now equipping itself to assume the challenges of the future, to help write the agenda for America. 

Earlier today, in this great community, I spoke about the need to maintain our defenses. Tonight, I would like to talk about another kind of strength, the true source of American power that transcends all of the deterrent powers for peace of our Armed Forces. I am speaking here of our belief in ourselves and our belief in our Nation. 

Abraham Lincoln asked, in his own words, and I quote, "What constitutes the bulwark of our own liberty and independence?" And he answered, "It is not our frowning battlements or bristling seacoasts, our Army or our Navy. Our defense is in the spirit which prized liberty as the heritage of all men, in all lands everywhere." 

It is in this spirit that we must now move beyond the discords of the past decade. It is in this spirit that I ask you to join me in writing an agenda for the future. 

I welcome your invitation particularly tonight, because I know it is at Tulane and other centers of thought throughout our great country that much consideration is being given to the kind of future Americans want and, just as importantly, will work for. Each of you are preparing yourselves for the future, and I am deeply interested in your preparations and your opinions and your goals. However, tonight, with your indulgence, let me share with you my own views. 

I envision a creative program that goes as far as our courage and our capacities can take us, both at home and abroad. My goal is for a cooperative world at peace, using its resources to build, not to destroy. 

As President, I am determined to offer leadership to overcome our current economic problems. My goal is for jobs for all who want to work and economic opportunity for all who want to achieve.

I am determined to seek self-sufficiency in energy as an urgent national priority. My goal is to make America independent of foreign energy sources by 1985.

Of course, I will pursue interdependence with other nations and a reformed international economic system. My goal is for a world in which consuming and producing nations achieve a working balance.

I will address the humanitarian issues of hunger and famine, of health and of healing. My goal is to achieve -- or to assure basic needs and an effective system to achieve this result. 

I recognize the need for technology that enriches life while preserving our natural environment. My goal is to stimulate productivity, but use technology to redeem, not to destroy our environment.

I will strive for new cooperation rather than conflict in the peaceful exploration of our oceans and our space. My goal is to use resources for peaceful progress rather than war and destruction. 

Let America symbolize humanity's struggle to conquer nature and master technology. The time has now come for our Government to facilitate the individual's control over his or her future -- and of the future of America. 

But the future requires more than Americans congratulating themselves on how much we know and how many products that we can produce. It requires new knowledge to meet new problems. We must not only be motivated to build a better America, we must know how to do it. 

If we really want a humane America that will, for instance, contribute to the alleviation of the world's hunger, we must realize that good intentions do not feed people. Some problems, as anyone who served in the Congress knows, are complex. There arc no easy answers. Willpower alone does not grow food. 

We thought, in a well-intentioned past, that we could export our technology lock, stock, and barrel to developing nations. We did it with the best of intentions. But we are now learning that a strain of rice that grows in one place will not grow in another; that factories that produce at 100 percent in one nation produce less than half as much in a society where temperaments and work habits are somewhat different. 

Yet, the world economy has become interdependent. Not only food technology but money management, natural resources and energy, research and development -- all kinds of this group require an organized world society that makes the maximum effective use of the world's resources.

I want to tell the world: Let's grow food together, but let's also learn more about nutrition, about weather forecasting, about irrigation, about the many other specialties involved in helping people to help themselves. 

We must learn more about people, about the development of communities, architecture, engineering, education, motivation, productivity, public health and medicine, arts and sciences, political, legal, and social organization. All of these specialities and many, many more are required if young people like you are to help this Nation develop an agenda for our future -- your future, our country's future.

I challenge, for example, the medical students in this audience to put on their agenda the achievement of a cure for cancer. I challenge the engineers in this audience to devise new techniques for developing cheap, clean, and plentiful energy, and as a byproduct, to control floods. I challenge the law students in this audience to find ways to speed the administration of equal justice and make good citizens out of convicted criminals. I challenge education, those of you as education majors, to do real teaching for real life. I challenge the arts majors in this audience to compose the great American symphony, to write the great American novel, and to enrich and inspire our daily lives. 

America's leadership is essential. America's resources are vast. America's opportunities are unprecedented. 

As we strive together to prefect a new agenda, I put high on the list of important points the maintenance of alliances and partnerships with other people and other nations. These do provide a basis of shared values, even as we stand up with determination for what we believe. This, of course, requires a continuing commitment to peace and a determination to use our good offices wherever possible to promote better relations between nations of this world. 

The new agenda, that which is developed by you and by us, must place a high priority on the need to stop the spread of nuclear weapons and to work for the mutual reduction in strategic arms and control of other weapons. And I must say, parenthetically, the successful negotiations at Vladivostok, in my opinion, are just a beginning. 

Your generation of Americans is uniquely endowed by history to give new meaning to the pride and spirit of America. The magnetism of an American society, confident of its own strength, will attract the good will and the esteem of all people wherever they might be in this globe in which we live. It will enhance our own perception of ourselves and our pride in being an American. We can, we -- and I say it with emphasis -- write a new agenda for our future. 

I am glad that Tulane University and other great American educational institutions are reaching out to others in programs to work with developing nations, and I look forward with confidence to your participation in every aspect of America's future. 

And I urge Americans of all ages to unite in this Bicentennial year, to take responsibility for themselves as our ancestors did. Let us resolve tonight to rediscover the old virtues of confidence and self-reliance and capability that characterized our forefathers two centuries ago. I pledge, as I know you do, each one of us, to do our part. 

Let the beacon light of the past shine forth from historic New Orleans and from Tulane University and from every other corner of this land to illuminate a boundless future for all Americans and a peace for all mankind. 

Thank you very much. 

Gerald R. Ford Presidential Library and Museum

http://www.fordlibrarymuseum.gov/library/speeches/750208.asp

To the International Soldier Fallen in Spain

To the International Soldier Fallen in Spain 

Miguel Hernandez

If there are men who contain a soul without frontiers,
a brow scattered with universal hair,covered with horizons, ships, and mountain chains,
with sand and with snow, then you are one of those.

Fatherlands called to you with all their banners,
so that your breath filled with beautiful movements.
You wanted to quench the thirst of panthers
and fluttered full against their abuses.

With a taste of all suns and seas,
Spain beckons you because in her you realize
your majesty like a tree that embraces a continent.

Around your bones, the olive groves will grow,
unfolding their iron roots in the ground,
embracing men universally, faithfully.

The Crime Was In Granada

The Crime Was In Granada

Antonio Machado

For Federico García Lorca

                              I:  The Crime

He was seen walking between the rifles,

down a long street

out to chill fields

still lit by early stars.

They killed Federico

when the dawn broke.

The executioner’s crew

dared not look in his face.

They shut their eyes,

said: ‘Nor will God save you!

Federico fell dying

–blood on his brow, lead in his guts –

…To think the crime should be in Granada.

–  poor Granada – in his Granada…

II: Death and the Poet

He was seen walking only with Her,

and unafraid of her scythe.

– The sun now on tower after tower, hammers

on anvils – anvil on anvil, of the forges.

Federico was speaking

flattering Death. She listened.

‘Yesterday in my verse, friend,

the clap of your dry palms sounded,

you gave ice to my song, your silver

scythe’s edge to my tragedy,

I’ll sing to you of your wasted flesh,

your empty eyes,

your hair the wind stirs,

the red lips where you were kissed…

Now as ever, gypsy, my death,

how good to be alone with you,

in this breeze of Granada, my Granada!

                              III

He was seen walking…

                                        Friends, carve

in the Alhambra, a statue of dreams

and stone, for the poet,

over a fountain where water goes grieving

and saying, eternally:

the crime was in Granada, in his Granada!

http://www.poetryintranslation.com/PITBR/Spanish/Machado.htm#_Toc187483810

How to Die

How to Die

Siegfried Sassoon

Dark clouds are smouldering into red
  While down the craters morning burns.
The dying soldier shifts his head
  To watch the glory that returns;
He lifts his fingers toward the skies
  Where holy brightness breaks in flame;
Radiance reflected in his eyes,
  And on his lips a whispered name.

You'd think, to hear some people talk,
  That lads go West with sobs and curses,
And sullen faces white as chalk,
  Hankering for wreaths and tombs and hearses.
But they've been taught the way to do it
  Like Christian soldiers; not with haste
And shuddering groans; but passing through it
  With due regard for decent taste.

http://www.fordham.edu/halsall/mod/1914warpoets.html

Anthem for Doomed Youth

Anthem for Doomed Youth

Wilfred Owen

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?

      Only the monstrous anger of the guns.

      Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle

Can patter out their hasty orisons.

No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells,

      Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,—

The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;

      And bugles calling for them from sad shires.

What candles may be held to speed them all?

      Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes

Shall shine the holy glimmers of good-byes.

      The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall;

Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,

And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.

http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/176831

Now What?

So I have all this research gathered and read, notes taken, and my dissertation committee setup, and now I've got to finish the actual dissertation so I can finally graduate and fling myself out onto the job market with all the other people whose life choices have led them to a point that we have to scrabble for a shrinking number of tenure track jobs.

The problem is figuring out exactly what it is I'm doing here because at this point, the evidence I've collected is really not what I had expected to have at this point based on my initial work looking at war crimes in Vietnam.  I suspect that part of the reason I'm facing this issue is that my sources have changed.  In my earlier work, I focused on memoirs, published collections of letters, and interviews, which provided some very personal, emotional opinions about atrocities that soldiers had witnessed.  If I had stuck with that approach, I likely would have continued to get that type of evidence.  Instead, I've been focusing on official investigations, unit records, and courts-martial, along with oral history interviews as my sources, which produces a whole different type of evidence.  That presents a bit of a conundrum - what do I do with all of this stuff?

What I don't have is easily categorizable responses that my earlier materials presented - objections by some soldiers that war crimes weren't "American", that they were morally wrong, or that they were counter-productive.  Instead, the evidence is a hot mess.  The most obvious way to categorize things at this point seems to be to sort the events into categories based on how they were reported, and then analyze how the witnesses reacted to the allegations of war crimes in the incident, and how they viewed soldiers that made the allegations.  That's a really different type of dissertation than I set out to write, but it presents a way forward that gets it done (the key thing) in a time frame that lets me defend next spring and graduate.  I'm out of time to do any additional research at this point, so there's no going back to the letters, memoirs, and interviews.  This potential approach does let me clearly tie My Lai into my analysis, something I've been trying to avoid, but when I comes to the issue of atrocities, it seems that you just can't avoid that particular elephant in the room.

The Things That Make a Soldier Great

The Things That Make a Soldier Great

Edgar Guest

The things that make a soldier great and send him out to die,
To face the flaming cannon's mouth nor ever question why,
Are lilacs by a little porch, the row of tulips red,
The peonies and pansies, too, the old petunia bed,
The grass plot where his children play, the roses on the wall:
'Tis these that make a soldier great. He's fighting for them all.

'Tis not the pomp and pride of kings that make a soldier brave;
'Tis not allegiance to the flag that over him may wave;
For soldiers never fight so well on land or on the foam
As when behind the cause they see the little place called home.
Endanger but that humble street whereon his children run,
You make a soldier of the man who never bore a gun.

What is it through the battle smoke the valiant soldier sees?
The little garden far away, the budding apple trees,
The little patch of ground back there, the children at their play,
Perhaps a tiny mound behind the simple church of gray.
The golden thread of courage isn't linked to castle dome
But to the spot, where'er it be--the humble spot called home.

And now the lilacs bud again and all is lovely there
And homesick soldiers far away know spring is in the air;
The tulips come to bloom again, the grass once more is green,
And every man can see the spot where all his joys have been.
He sees his children smile at him, he hears the bugle call,
And only death can stop him now--he's fightin' for them all.

http://www.english.emory.edu/LostPoets/Guest.html

Dulce et Decorum Est

Dulce et Decorum Est

Wilfred Owen

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, 
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, 
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs 
And towards our distant rest began to trudge. 
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots 
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind; 
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots  
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.
Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling, 
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time; 
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling, 
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime . . . 
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light, 
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning. 
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight, 
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning. 
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace 
Behind the wagon that we flung him in, 
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face, 
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin; 
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood 
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs, 
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud  
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues, 
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest  
To children ardent for some desperate glory, 
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est 
Pro patria mori.

http://www.warpoetry.co.uk/owen1.html

Steven Piotrowski on Fighting the 532nd Viet Cong Women’s Brigade

Excerpts from Wisconsin Veterans Museum archivist Mark Van Ells interview of Steven Piotrowski, who served in Vietnam after Tet of 1969.  He discusses not only his experience working in LBJ's Great Society programs before his service in Vietnam, but working with Montagnards and fighting against a Viet Cong women's brigade.

Piotrowski: In this particular area the villages, while they weren’t openly hostile, it wasobvious they were still primarily VC sympathizers. They would allow us in if wewere just coming through. They wouldn’t harass us. They were very deferentialto us and that sort of thing, I think because they knew we could blow them awayin seconds and probably had other American units do that. I will say this forbeing in the airborne unit, that part of the gung ho-ness is paying attention intraining. I think we tended to be less cruel than a lot of units. 

Mark: Because you were better trained, do you think? 

Piotrowski: I think so. 

Mark: More disciplined? 

Piotrowski: Yeah. While, when it came to the actual fighting, they were a pretty fearlessgroup, but at the same time weren’t as likely to just harass civilians forharassment’s sake. But, at the same time in the same area, one of the units wewere in contact with fairly regularly was a VC women’s unit. And that was realstrange because the first time we recognized that that’s in fact what it was, wewere going through a tea plantation and we could see these women working onthe other end of the field. It was probably a hundred meters away. And we couldsee them working and they got their little knives and they’re cutting tea leaves andworking on the plants. And, as we get past them so basically our backs are turnedto them, all of a sudden we start taking fire from them. And they had their rifleswith them and they started laying down fire on us, so we attacked back. And theywere this group of women. And this was, and after this intelligence confirmedthat it was whatever, the 532nd VC women’s brigade or whatever. 

Mark: Thinking back to basic training, was there anything mentioned that you might runacross a women’s brigade? I mean, this is not what the typical American soldieris trained in. 

Piotrowski: No. It was made clear that it was peasants, everybody was involved. Kids could be carrying grenades and all that sort of thing. But an actual— 

Mark: You were taught this in training. 

Piotrowski: Yeah. But an actual women’s unit, no. The idea that you couldn’t trust theVietnamese at all was very strongly put in. And we did have a Chu Hoiinterpreter with us most of the time. And, since I was with the command post asradio operator most of the time, I got to know him fairly well and he taught memore about some of those dichotomies within their society and how this has splitfamilies and all this sort of thing, just from talking with him over the time wewere there. 

But, no, I didn’t expect to be fighting an actual women’s unit. It didn’t surpriseme, on the one hand, but I didn’t expect to be having them organized like awomen’s auxiliary or the legion except heavily armed. So that was kind of ashock. But eventually we did find their training ground and their base camp, afterthey wiped out or overran one of our sister company platoons. A couple dayslater we were following blood trails from that action and found trace of a bloodtrail in through what looked like dense jungle. We figured we’d just find a bodyburied a little ways off this trail and, as we got further off the trail, the more openit became. They had done this for a jungle base camp, but – 

—But this wonderful job of theirs. There were actually roads into the teaplantations that were big enough to get carts and small vehicles in that formed abig triangle, probably a mile or so across. And they kept the edge of that triangleso thick, and they never entered on the same way, so there’s no trails looking likeit went in. And, once you got 50 meters inside that edge, the whole thing wasnothing but the top canopy was left. You couldn’t see it from the air, but it wasjust a well-built base camp that was permanently occupied until we found it anddestroyed that whole area. Nobody was in it when we found it, but there was ahospital room in it, the whole works. 

Mark: That’s interesting. 

Piotrowski: And that slowed them down for a long time because they no longer had a safeplace to gather. And that really did slow down the VC activity in that area forquite a while because they didn’t have a place where they could gather and planand bring their forces together and train. They, especially the VC, were verycareful not to attack unless they knew they had a distinct advantage and had itwell-planned out. And so that slowed them way down. 

Mark: Now, in terms of the VC, this was after ’68, so that was a little unusual to befighting such a strong VC— 

Piotrowski: Yeah. And I think that’s partially because of where BoLac was. There was nomajor city there and no major concentration of American forces, so they didn’twaste themselves like they did in most of the other areas. But, once we left thatarea, we hardly saw any real VC after them; a little bit when we were down atPhan Thiet. There was some in the—they had a name for the woods, but I can’tremember what it was, but there was some woods outside of Phan Thiet that stillhad VC farmers sort of set up, but was primarily NVA. 

Mark: Now, the American combat soldier didn’t always have a very high opinion of theVC. What was your take on it as far as their combat prowess? 

Piotrowski: I never thought anything but they really had their stuff together because they were so hard to find. And it may have had a lot to do with how—I got there the end ofFebruary, so I got to the company about mid-March. The 17th of April they wipedout a Bravo Company platoon and just overran them. And just because they did acouple little stupid things. It wasn’t major errors, but they did just enough stupidto give them an opening. And a couple weeks later they wiped out anotherplatoon from Bravo because of the same sort of thing. And so, my experiencewith them, they had their stuff together. The VC? No, I always thought quitehighly of them. The NVA were superb troops, but the VC, for what they were—now, most of the Vietnamese troops I worked with, which wasn’t that many, Iwouldn’t say as much.

http://www.wisvetsmuseum.com/collections/oral_history/transcriptions/P/Piotrowski,%20Steven%20_OH504_.pdf

In Flanders Fields

In Flanders Fields

John McCrae

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

http://www.english.emory.edu/LostPoets/McCrae.html

Kenneth Stumpf on the Ambushes and Accidental Deaths in Vietnam

Excerpts from James McIntosh's oral history interview with Medal of Honor winner Kenneth Stumpf of the 35th Infantry Regiment.  Among other things, Stumpf criticized high-ranking officers for focusing on their careers over winning the war and taking care of their men.  I'm most interested, though, in an incident in which a priest and altar boy on their way to serve mass were killed, and Stumpf's reactions to the event.

Stumpf: No, no, no. Your clacker back here by you, you have the cl—you have the
wire, you have that thing right here in your hand, and the guy that’s up and
alert has it where if the trip, a flare goes off, you can make the decision to
blow it, to blow the Claymore. And it shocks him or keeps him away or
whatever it might be. Well anyways, there was a stream and I’m on guard
duty now. Now what I see in front of us is a—there’s a road, it’s a dirt
road, um, there’s a rice paddy, a small rice paddy, and there’s a village.
And from where we were at there was hedgerows, about, just about five
foot tall. There was hedgerows and we were in an area right along the
hedgerows. So about 4 o’clock, 3 o’clock in the morning, something like
that, I’m on duty and I hear something or somebody coming through the
stream, walking in the stream. Because at night everything is so quiet, a
guy could hear the trickle; I could, I could always hear the trickle, always
hear the trickle. Something was in there, so I had Billy, Sergeant Billy,
next to me and I said, [whispers] “Billy!” I said, “I think somebody is
coming, something or somebody is coming through the stream.” And we
heard it and we had our weapons ready. And all of sudden on to, off to our
right, where the trail led out of the stream, here comes a man—here comes
a tall person and a short person and a bicycle. They weren’t riding it, they
were walking it. So we had—I said to Billy, “Dude.” Remember, we had
an Easter truce. He said, “Let’s get him.” “Okay.” He says, “You take the
big one.” Me, I’ll take the big guy in front and he’ll take the smaller one in
the back. So we drew our 16s up and had ‘em on full automatic [makes
automatic firing sounds]. They went down and fell into the rice paddy,
then they got back up. I reloaded, we both reloaded and shot some more,
and then we could see them both. They just—ducking way down low, they
made their way to the village. 

James: You missed them? 

Stumpf: No, we didn’t miss ‘em; we didn’t kill ‘em, though. We, we didn’t know,
we didn’t know. We knew, we knew they went down. They went down
first; we knew they were both hit first. Where, how bad, I don’t know. It’s
dark outside yet. So what had happened then, oh everybody in the platoon,
they got up, “What’s going on? What’s going on? What’s going on? Had
we seen somebody?” Dah, dah, dah, dah, dah. And we told the story to
these guys and [unintelligible]. So at whatever time, 5:30 in the morning,
it started to get light outside, Billy and I, we go out through the brush, we
go out to the road. The bicycle is there. And then we get, we get some
guys and we start walking, following the blood trail. Blood trail all over
the place, going through the rice paddies, into the village. All of a sudden,
man, we got into the village, people were crying and screamin’ at us, and
it was like, “What the hell?” So we had to get an interpreter out and I went
over there—and I don’t remember where Billy was, but he was probably
next to me or something. I went over there to the lieutenant and the
interpreter and I says, “What happened? What are they all screaming
about?” And the interpreter said Billy and I shot a priest and an altar boy;
they were going to church services. Oh man, I don’t know if we killed
them. I walked away. I walked away; I’m not even sure if we killed them
or not. But that’s what happens in war and that’s, it’s still on my—I don’t
have, I don’t have tremendous, I don’t have nightmares, but I feel kind of
like, Oh man, I shot a priest, you know, and Billy shot the altar boy. But
it’s somethin’ I never really talked about much, but I thought about for a
long time, and it doesn’t cause me to have any kind of flipouts or anything
else; it’s just—you know, Vietnam made me strong. I mean, for the guys
that got killed, I’m strong for them. I says, “I’m not going to let, I’m not
gonna let a nightmare bother me about this or that or whatever and I’m not
gonna whine and snivel when I go see the Vietnam Memorial. I’m gonna
be strong,” you know. So it never bothered me, it doesn’t bother me, but I
never talk about that. I talked to that about—oh, I probably told ten
people, ten people that story. But, you know, it was, it was an Easter—that
was just the way we were. We got an Easter truce, all these other ones had
been broke, why are we out on an ambush to begin with? We were. We
didn’t care if it was Christmas day, or Christmas whatever, if we were out
on an ambush, we were out on an ambush. Days of Tet, their holiday, it
didn’t make a difference; we’re still on ambush, you know. So that’s just
the way it was. What happened, it was dark, it was dark outside, we seen a
big guy and a smaller guy, and of course, you know, a grown Vietnamese
is about 5’1” and just that he was bigger than the other guy. So we killed,
or we killed, we wounded and I, and I would suspect we killed ‘em, that
we killed them both or shot ‘em up pretty darn, pretty darn bad just on the,
on the blood, the blood that we followed into the, into the village. But I
didn’t even, I didn’t ask, I didn’t ask. When the interpreter told the
lieutenant that we shot a priest and an altar boy that was going to serve
mass down the road I guess, um, I walked away. Yeah I did.

http://www.wisvetsmuseum.com/collections/oral_history/transcriptions/S/Stumpf,%20Ken%20_OH%20502_.pdf

Invictus

Invictus

William Ernest Henley

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/182194