5

The climate was shifting into the dry season. Early in the morning a suffocating wind blew down from southern China and as the sun climbed into the sky the air became hot as hell. Everything came to a halt in the inferno. The “white sun,” as the infantrymen called it, was a furnace so fiery that after setting down your helmet for a minute you could fry an egg on it. All moisture was sucked from the air. Even the flies breathlessly searched for humid shade. There wasn’t a soul in sight, not in the battle zones, not in the streets.

Corporal Ahn Yong Kyu spent his last week of PX orientation at the US Marine commissaries. The first week had been the air force and the second the navy at China Beach. The detachment leader, Captain Kim, must have rated him competent. Yong Kyu was determined not to be an orderly for the remainder of his hitch, so every day he submitted his observations as scrupulously written reports.

“I was right—you’re quick. You’re the perfect replacement for Kang. See to it that you get into the market as early as possible.”

Pointer had said this to Yong Kyu after his first week of duty. However, he added one qualification to his praise.

“There’s one problem with your reports. Too many personal opinions. Of course, opinions from intelligence personnel are not entirely unnecessary. Very competent intelligence staff often make personal observations. But most important is honoring the duties required by headquarters. Only within those limits are personal opinions and views allowed.”

A hunting dog hunts only at his master’s command. But whether he runs straight or in a parabolic arc, runs too far and comes back to retrieve or pauses a few steps before, these choices are his. Whether the targeted prey happens to be a duck, a pheasant, a snipe, an old shoe, or even a deflated ball, he’s got to lock his teeth on it and bring it back to his master. It is not for the hunting dog to figure out whether the prey is delicious, useful, or inedible. That was the gist of the captain’s words. If Yong Kyu had not witnessed the carnage of a village destroyed, or that in a jungle swamp, he wouldn’t have understood Da Nang at all.

What is a PX? A Disneyland in a vast tin warehouse. A place where an exhausted soldier with a few bloodstained military dollars can buy and possess dreams mass-produced by industrial enterprises. The ducks and rabbits and fairies are replaced by machines and laughter and dances. The wrapping paper and the boxes smell of rich oil and are as beautiful as flowers.

What is a PX? A place where they sell the commodities used daily by a nation that possesses the skill to shower more than one million steel fragments over an area one mile wide by a quarter mile long with a single CBV. A nation capable of turning a three-hundred-acre tract of jungle into a defoliated wasteland where not a single plant or animal can survive, in under four minutes.

What is a PX? It’s Uncle Sam’s attic, the old man who makes appearances at villages the world over garbed in the Stars and Stripes, a Roman-style dagger in hand as he brandishes a shield with the motto: “America is the world’s largest and greatest nation.” It is the general store of the cavalry fort, frequented by whores and ministers and arms smugglers who join hands in transforming the natives into ridiculous puppets, intoxicating them and exploring new frontiers of vileness.

And the PX brings civilization to the filthy Asian slopeheads who otherwise would go on living in blissful ignorance on a diet of bananas and rice. It teaches them how to wash with Ivory soap, how to quench the thirst and ease the heart with the taste of Coke. It showers down upon the bombed-out barracks perfumes, rainbow-colored cookies and candy drops, lace-fringed lingerie, expensive wristwatches, and rings graced with precious stones. Cheese appears on the smelly meal tables of Asia, and condoms slip out from between Asian girls’ thighs and dance on children’s tiny fingertips.

Anyone who has ever been intoxicated, even once, by that taste and smell and touch, will carry the memory to his grave. The products ceaselessly create loyal consumers who are at the mercy of the producers. Those who lay hands upon the wealth of America will have the label US military burned into their brains. Children who grow up humming their songs and eating their candies and chocolates off the streets trust their benevolence and optimism. The vast purchasing power in the market, the booming business in the city, and the enthusiasm and ecstasy in the back alleys are all in proportion to the intensity of the war. The PX is a tempting wooden horse. And it is America’s most powerful new weapon.

Ahn Yong Kyu realized that, like the sentry posts dotting the jungle, each PX was a place of protection that aroused hostility all around itself. Was this war actually a rebellion? Or had it long since passed beyond that stage? In an investigation report concerning an infantry soldier who had caught a Vietnamese child stealing a hand grenade, it was written that the child answered the soldier, “I stole it to protect myself.”

To keep the child from protecting himself any longer, the infantryman shot him. Only those in uniform were on his side. No uniform meant an enemy.

“The Americans are so naive,” muttered the detachment leader, Captain Kim, as he looked over the American CID report.

“Have you seen this?”

“Yes, I’ve looked through, sir.”

“Make a memo on it.”

Yong Kyu had come into the office to write up some paperwork. The judge advocate’s cars coming in and out told him there must be a court martial in progress. He heard it had to do with the death of some Vietnamese girl. Anyone coming out of the jungle would consider the case a joke.

Due to their nature such cases, from the standpoint of operational priorities, could not be tried as official cases. It was the kind of thing that happened every day on a large scale but was soon forgotten in the course of reconnaissance patrols and ambushes. Captured regular army soldiers with serial numbers would go through screening and be treated as prisoners. But even that procedure only applied on large-scale operations. On the company level there was no manpower to stop the savage behavior of infantrymen facing their own deaths, and for that same reason keeping prisoners of war was out of the question.

In the case of non-uniformed men identifying themselves as NLF combatants, whether in the jungle or in the city, once taken they would be treated as spies and, following the precedent of World War II, could be executed on the spot. If they sometimes were taken prisoner and interrogated or handed over to the Vietnamese prisoner-screening units, it was purely because of the information that might be extracted.

In fact, in operation areas everything moving was treated as the enemy. Even a slow-moving water buffalo would send the helicopters into the air to strafe it, lest there be some bomb strapped to the beast or some combatants using it as a shield. But it is racism, in the end, that makes a person insist that a massacre is justified. American soldiers think it absurd to fight and die for some yellow people who relieve themselves outdoors and whose so-called food is filthier than the garbage in trash cans back home. Even so, they have to fight on somebody’s behalf, not on behalf of dollars. Even the killing—in the air it is a matter of technology and on the ground a game like Cowboys and Indians. But they have to do it for someone. If a soldier in a platoon is blown to bits by a booby trap, retaliation has to be wiping out an entire village. Nothing is left alive. Even the rice fields are torched.

“What are you looking at?”

Yong Kyu turned about to find Major Krapensky walking into the office. He was in full military uniform. Yong Kyu rose and awkwardly saluted.

“I asked him to make a memo on the case,” Captain Kim said.

“I thought you were interested in the black market,” the major said with a little frown.

“You look sharp. You can tell you’re a real soldier,” the captain said, changing the subject.

“Of course, I think a uniform suits me best.”

“What’s going on? A party?”

“I was summoned to appear as a witness in court.”

The captain held up the report in his hand.

Once more Major Krapensky frowned and said, “I don’t think this is in your jurisdiction.”

“I obtained some reference materials from the Vietnamese side. We have to be in the know. We encounter this kind of case almost every day in field operations.”

A smile appeared on Krapensky’s face. He offered a cigarette to the captain and even lit it for him.

“Have you ever handled a similar case?”

“No, we’re pretty busy.”

“Dignity is the marking of a gentleman. It’s a saying we have.”

“Dignity, and not hypocrisy?” said the captain, turning to look back at Yong Kyu with a smile.

“Captain, you speak English well,” the major said calmly. “That war is irrational is a given. There are times when you can’t completely ignore that fact, can’t totally avoid acknowledging it. A confession of faith is not merely an act to cleanse past sins, it is also to expiate sins one might commit in days to come.”

“Are you a Christian, Major?”

“All Americans are believers in Christianity and are to some degree Christians. Captain, I didn’t come here for a discussion. Just like neither one of us came to Vietnam for a discussion.”

“I was just joking. You’re always joking with me, no? You made a lot of jokes based on your services days in Korea.”

“That’s true. The French and the British may look alike to you. Likewise, I can’t tell the difference between you people and the Vietnamese.”

“Anyway, we’ve come here for the same purpose, right?”

At those words from the captain, the major shook his head and laughed, “No, you came here to make money. I’m joking, don’t take it the wrong way . . . ”

Yong Kyu gathered his words in his head before he opened his mouth.

“The allied forces always have only one purpose.”

The major peered silently down at Yong Kyu with wide eyes, glanced at his watch, and turned away. Yong Kyu saluted him.

As soon as he sat down, the captain said coldly, “Nice of you to try to help, but in the future watch your step.”

“Yes, understood, sir.”

Yong Kyu returned to work on the memo covering the case.

Concerning the Rape-Murder of a Vietnamese Women

Interrogation in the Presence of Major Krapensky, First Lieutenant Mersee, and Sergeant Lucas

Complainant: PFC Sven Ericsson (Age 23, born Minnesota)

Accused (4): SSG Tony Misova (Age 20, born Upper State New York on Canadian border, career soldier, 3 years in field)

CPL Ralph Clark (Age 22, born Philadelphia)

PFC Raphael Gomez (Age 21, born Texas)

PFC Manuel Gomez (Age 19, born Texas, cousin of Raphael)

Witnesses: 2d Lt. Harold Riley (Platoon Leader, born Oklahoma, black).

Phan Te Rok (Vietnamese, sister of victim, age 16, born Kattuong, Puye district of Khwang Kaesong)

Interrogator: Lieutenant Riley, before you confirm the charges made by Private Ericsson, please state the time, place, and nature of the mission during which the five soldiers were involved in the incident.

Riley: On November 16 I assigned Private Ericsson’s squad to a scouting mission. They were to patrol the mid-highlands in the area of Hill 192 in Bong Song Valley.

Interrogator: On what basis were they selected?

Riley: At the direct order of the battalion commander, I chose the best soldiers in the platoon. They all had a lot of experience in operations, and they were also all named by the company commander.

Interrogator: Go on.

Riley: On November 17 the newly-formed reconnaissance team was gathered at platoon headquarters in My Tho to be briefed. Needless to say, it would have been nice to find enemy forces and let loose with air-ground operations, but the battalion command had ordered that there was to be no engagement with the enemy unless absolutely unavoidable, as a self-protection measure. The recon team left the main body for five days’ encampment.

Interrogator: Private Ericsson, whose idea was it? Was it Misova’s?

Ericsson: Yes, he offered to kidnap a woman for the morale of the squad. He said we could enjoy the woman in turn for five days, and if we got rid of her before coming back then we couldn’t be prosecuted for kidnap and rape.

Interrogator: Why didn’t you report it to your superiors at that time?

Ericsson: I spoke to some of the others in the team, but they all laughed. These villagers who relieve themselves in the open and eat stuff filthier than our garbage back home, they are not humans like us. That was their answer.

Interrogator: Summarize the incident.

Ericsson: At 1640 the following morning, before we left the main body, Sergeant Misova lined us up for gear inspection. We had food, ammo, smoke grenades, and so on. About twenty minutes after we set out I realized we had marched about two kilometers to the east, the opposite direction from the way Misova had told us we would be moving. We got to Kattuong. Misova took Clark with him and combed the village. They had searched six houses without finding a single woman when Raphael pointed at a white hut with a thatched roof.

Interrogator: Who went in first?

Ericsson: Staff Sergeant Misova and Corporal Clark.

[Discussion with girl witness through Vietnamese military interpreter.]

Interrogator: Do you remember this soldier?

Phan Te Rok: I’m not sure. It was dark and I was terrified. Because of the commotion outside, my mother and my sister and I were all holding onto each other. Then the door burst open and a flashlight shone into the room. The light stopped on us.

Interrogator: Were there only three of you? Were you asleep?

Phan Te Rok: My sister Miao and my mother and I were already awake and talking to each other. My father had gone to the market at Pumi and the three of us were alone in the house. We bit our lips to keep from crying in fear and my mother held us in her arms. Two soldiers came in and separated us from our mother. Mother cried and begged. I was dragged outside, too, but my mother begged so desperately that they left me behind when they took my sister.

Interrogator: Was it Misova who dragged her out?

Ericsson: He dragged the girl out and tied her hands behind her back with vines. Clark said to hurry, that somebody might see us once the sun came up. Before we could get out of the village, a crowd of children started following us, crying. That girl was there. As we dragged her off with us to the west, we heard a woman wailing behind us. It was the girl’s mother.

Interrogator: Then what happened?

Ericsson: We just told her to go away, shouting “Diti miaoulin!” Misova fired a few warning shots at the woman’s feet.

Interrogator: Raphael, what did Misova do after that?

R. Gomez: The woman followed us, would hide, then follow us again, waving something like a scarf. When Misova went to kill the woman, we all stopped him. She ran up to us, out of breath, and waved. We figured she meant that the scarf was her daughter’s and she wanted her to have it. Tears were streaming down her face and she was begging and we didn’t know what to do. Clark took care of that problem. He took the scarf with a grin and stuffed it into the girl’s mouth.

Ericsson: Clark gagged Miao to keep her from crying. It was still dark and there were no villagers around to stop us. We left the mother behind and kept on walking, threatening the girl, who was having trouble keeping up. Manuel, maybe because of some rivalry with Clark, made the girl carry a pack on her back.

Interrogator: Staff Sergeant Misova, give us your statement on the events from there up to your arrival at the destination that day.

Misova: We had breakfast at around 0800. I ungagged the girl.

Interrogator: Did you give her any food?

Misova: All we had was C-rations . . . you can’t give that kind of food to the Vietnamese . . .

Interrogator: You starved her.

Misova: Her face was flushed and she kept coughing so I gave her some aspirin. Raphael started firing. He was shooting at buffaloes, so I warned him to be careful. At 1030 we were right below Hill 192 and there we picked a spot to serve as command center. It was an abandoned hut about forty feet square. There was a window on the east side and the door was on the west. Inside, there was a table and a long bench along the wall, bits of old cushions in the corners and some objects like pieces of iron or stones scattered on the floor. The place was a wreck and there were bullet holes in the walls. We piled up our ammo and food alongside the one wall that was still intact. I ordered Raphael and Ericsson to clean up the place, and then I went out with Clark and Manuel to reconnoiter the area.

Ericsson: The girl took off Manuel’s pack and watched Raphael and me cleaning for a while and then, without being told, she got up and helped us.

Interrogator: Maybe the girl thought you guys had taken her to be a servant. Whose idea was it to rape her?

Ericsson: It was the sergeant’s. They came back after an hour and were all smiles. At 1200 we sat outside the door and stuffed ourselves with rations. Misova, was lying on the ground resting and then he pointed to the hut and said it was time to have some fun.

Interrogator: Who agreed with him?

Ericsson: Clark whistled. Manuel and Raphael looked sullen.

Interrogator: Private Ericsson, was it your intention from the beginning to take no part in it?

Ericsson: I got married a month before being drafted. I realized that a very gentle and nice looking Vietnamese woman is no different from my wife or my sister. Misova asked if I’d take my turn. I said no. Misova got angry and pointed his gun at me. Unless I went along with it, he said, he’d have to report that one of his men died in action. Clark backed him up.

Interrogator: Raphael and Manuel, you didn’t refuse as strongly as Ericsson?

Manuel: Misova made fun of Ericsson, calling him a faggot and a eunuch.

Raphael: Clark also made fun of him, called him spineless. We couldn’t take that.

Manuel: If they told the others we were cowards, we’d be isolated in the platoon.

Ericsson: Misova took off his shirt and rushed into the hut. You could hear the girl screaming in pain and despair. The screaming went on and on. It only stopped when the girl gasped for breath. Then it turned into crying in agony. When Misova came out of the hut he was buttoning up his pants. He said the girl was very clean and not bad at all.

Interrogator: Who was next?

Clark: Misova gestured at me to go next so I went in.

Interrogator: You didn’t draw lots?

Ericsson: While we were cleaning, they decided their turns.

Clark: The truth is, we went by order of rank.

Interrogator: How was the girl doing?

Clark: She was naked on the table.

Interrogator: Was that all?

Clark: Her hands were tied behind her and there was a lot of bleeding. She was extremely clean and calm.

Ericsson: Raphael watched what Clark was doing through a hole in the wall.

Interrogator: What did Clark do to the girl?

Raphael: Because she kept screaming from the pain, he did it with a hunting knife pressed to her throat.

Interrogator: What kind of knife?

Clark: The handle was wrapped with tape and the blade about ten inches long. A wounded buddy gave it to me.

Manuel: Raphael and I, against our will, did it in turn with Misova and Clark watching us. The girl was still moaning in pain but by then she was really weak.

Ericsson: They kept going in and out of the hut, kept it up for an hour and a half. So that any enemies nearby wouldn’t spot us, we all went into the hut and that was when I saw her. She was curled up in a corner, tied up and naked. She looked at each of us in turn, crying. Her eyes were so big. Then she was untied and dressed.

Interrogator: Who did that?

Misova: I did.

Interrogator: According to your file, you once took target practice on civilians while out on reconnaissance. Why?

Misova: I felt like it.

Interrogator: You also did that to the girl because you felt like it? What did you do after that?

Misova: I ate.

Interrogator: Did you feed the girl?

Misova: Since her coughing was getting worse, she didn’t get any food.

Ericsson: While they were eating they compared the Vietnamese girl with other women they’d had. They also tried to remember exactly how long it had been since they’d last tasted a woman.

Interrogator: Was there an operation that day?

Misova: I told Ericsson to watch the girl and the ammo and we headed up to the highlands to patrol the opposite valley. There were three Vietnamese walking along the river. They were not in uniform but I figured they were Viet Cong. We all fired at once. We missed the targets, so we radioed platoon headquarters, asking for artillery support. Immediately there was shelling.

Interrogator: Private Ericsson, you were left alone with the girl?

Ericsson: I didn’t know how to deal with her. Her crying broke my heart. By then I’d been with her all day, but there was nothing I could do for her. As I watched trembling in terror—she was so tiny—I even thought of shooting the four who raped her. I was furious. I made up my mind that if I ever got out of there alive, I’d make them pay for what they’d done. When I went inside, the girl must’ve thought I’d come to rape her too because she burst into tears and curled up in a ball in the corner. She looked worn out and she got worse and worse. I thought she must’ve been hurt badly. But she was wearing black so I couldn’t see where she was hurt. I offered her some beef stew and crackers and water. The girl took the food and ate. It was the first thing she’d eaten since we’d taken her. It was the afternoon by then. She ate standing up, but several times stopped eating and moaned. She never took her eyes off me while eating. I guess she was trying to figure out what sort of game I was playing. After she finished, she said something in Vietnamese. She could have been thanking me. I said in English that I didn’t understand her. I wanted to tell her how sorry I was for what happened.

Interrogator: The idea of rescuing her didn’t occur to you?

Ericsson: The girl looked too weak to travel. I did think of slipping out of there with her. But I knew it would be dark soon. If we were on the run they might start shooting at us. I was the only one not an accomplice. I knew Misova would report me as a deserter and the others would probably take his side. They would all swear with a straight face that there had been no woman at all on the patrol and that I must be out of my mind. When I went back in the hut again, the girl seemed to have decided I was not going to hurt her. The moaning had stopped and it seemed like she trusted me. Trusted me! After I had already decided there was nothing I could do for her. It was the hardest decision I ever made in my life, and by no means the best. It was wrong for me to be a soldier in Vietnam. When the girl’s fever worsened and she kept coughing, Clark started insisting that we kill her then and there.

Manuel: Misova talked him out of it, told him to be patient. He said after a good night’s sleep Miao might be in better shape. Then, in the morning they could have one more round of fun with her.

Raphael: The moon was bright. We took turns standing guard and the girl, crouched in the corner, coughed all night through. So Clark starting up again saying we should get rid of her.

Clark: I was afraid her coughing might lead the enemy to our position.

Misova: The next morning we all got up a little before 0600 and I wasn’t interested in the girl anymore.

Ericsson: Because she was totally worn out and her fever and cough had worsened during the night. They all said it was time to get rid of her.

Interrogator: Did Misova say he’d kill her himself?

Ericsson: Misova ordered me to get rid of her. He threatened me, said if I refused, he’d report me as killed in action.

Raphael: He also ordered us to do it, but we refused.

Manuel: Clark volunteered to do it himself, but Misova said no, and that we all had to be involved so nobody took the blame later on. Misova said he’d have us each stab her with knives, and Clark said he’d bayonet her in the back.

Raphael: And he said we could dump the body off a cliff on Hill 192, which we’d come upon while on patrol the day before.

Ericsson: We dragged the girl up to higher ground. She was struggling to breathe. But as soon as we reached the ridge, we discovered enemy down below us.

Misova: The situation became urgent and we found the girl’s presence a hindrance to carrying out operations.

Raphael: I was the one nearest the girl, and Clark pulled her by the arm into the forest nearby. I saw he had the hunting knife in his other hand.

Interrogator: Did you hear anything when she was stabbed?

Ericsson: Well, I was a hunter back home, so I know what it’s like to gut a deer. I remember thinking that the sound was like sticking a knife into a deer. The girl screamed, but it wasn’t very loud.

Raphael: When Clark came back, Misova asked him if he’d taken care of the girl and Clark said she was dead. But then we saw her crawling down the slope. Misova pointed at her and shouted.

Ericsson: Clark muttered he had stuck the knife all the way in, twice. Misova ordered all of us to fire at her, but we didn’t.

Raphael: I shot one time, but my gun jammed and I couldn’t fire anymore. Clark ran down the hill and unloaded his M16 in the direction of the forest. Clark then started joking, asking if we wanted him to go get her gold tooth. Part of her head was blown off. Then we got focused on our own operation and forgot about the incident.

Interrogator: Did Lieutenant Riley meet you at that point?

Riley: No, I only received a radio report that a female guerrilla had been shot to death. During the operation Misova reported that they encountered a woman who took off running toward the top of the hill, so I ordered him to capture her. About two minutes later, he told me they weren’t able to catch her and had no choice but to shoot her. I told him “Good job!” and reported it on up to company level.

Ericsson: I felt like I was going crazy, knowing that as long as I kept my mouth shut, the murder of that thin Vietnamese girl with the large dark eyes would be buried forever. I knew that, if I did not bring the murder into the light of day, I could never live in peace after being discharged and going home. I realized it was the very least I could do for that girl I’d betrayed. The only thing that could prevent me from carrying out my resolution would be if I became a casualty at the hands of my own unit. In fact, Misova and Clark fired at me twice when we were out on reconnaissance.

Interrogator: Did you report it to your superior?

Ericsson: I gave statements to the platoon leader and the company commander.

Interrogator: Lieutenant Riley, what is the reason for concealing this crime for over three months?

Riley: It wasn’t a case of concealment. One thing all of us field commanders know well is that the nature of the civilian relations that US forces engage in in Asia are not at all like they are in Europe. Mishaps of this kind happen every day in Vietnam.

Interrogator: I am aware that there is a cultural difference. The question, however, is why you did not report it earlier?

Riley: Three years ago I lived in a black area. My wife went to the hospital in a white neighborhood in Alabama to give birth to our first baby. She was in a lot of pain. But the hospital, under a policy of severe racial discrimination, refused to admit my wife. She ended up having her baby in the waiting room. I tried to destroy that hospital, but they called the police and I ended up behind bars. Sitting in that cell I made up my mind that the moment I was out I’d shoot every single member of the staff of that hospital. I gave up the idea when I was got out. It was for the same reason that I did not report this case.

Interrogator: This is a case that could turn into an international problem. In any event, once the case is publicized the dignity of the US forces, which have been participating in wars around the world to safeguard freedom and justice, will be greatly stained. Consider transferring or sending Ericsson home as soon as possible.

As word of the case might become public, recover the body of the victim immediately to prevent it from being exploited by the enemy for propaganda purposes. If it does become public, make sure that the severity of military discipline is also public knowledge, to demonstrate the far-sighted civilian relations policy of American forces. Let it be known that the American forces respect human life and treat crimes against civilians in the course of combat operations as civilian homicide. Dispatch to Hill 192 an investigation team of CID staff, a photographer, a doctor, a ballistics expert, and a military court advisor. As for Private Ericsson, acknowledge that he has fully completed his duty like a model soldier and have him cited, decorated, and recommended for promotion.

[Corpse found on Hill 192. All parts of decomposing remains collected, body-bagged, and evacuated. Eleven fragments of bullets discovered in vicinity of crime. Found teeth, finger bones, and other bone fragments in grass. Lethal wounds confirmed, as a result of autopsy, to include three punctures with knife in ribs and neck. Cause of partial loss of cranial bones confirmed to be impact of two high-velocity projectiles. Subject of autopsy was female Mongolian aged eighteen to twenty. A silver earring found at the scene of the crime was identified by relatives as belonging to victim Pan Te Miao.]