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Charlie Company collapsed in the days and weeks following My Lai 4. “I think after a while everybody was pretty well ashamed of it, you know,” Frank Beardslee testified, “because so many, what they term ‘innocent people’ were killed.” Beardslee himself was bothered by the babies who were shot that day. “They just got in the way … they were either on their mothers’ backs or something like [that] …” Later Beardslee explained in an interview with me, “It never dawned on us what really happened until it was all over.” Roger Alaux, the artillery observer, told the Panel that “throughout the entire company, there was a general feeling of depression after this entire operation was completed, and it lasted—I talked to quite a few men during the time—for a week or two weeks afterward, and a lot of them had very many doubts in their minds as to what actually had gone on and why it had gone on …”
By mid-April, Task Force Barker was routinely disbanded, Lieutenant Calley had been relieved as leader of the first platoon,* and Captain Medina was getting ready to take over a brigade staff job. His company, which had been given the honor of leading the brigade’s advance party to Vietnam, was a shambles.
One of the Peers panelists relayed a description of the post-My Lai 4 group to Lieutenant Colonel Edwin D. Beers, commander of the 1st Battalion of the 20th Infantry, Charlie Company’s home unit: “Subsequent to the time that Medina left … we were told by one well-experienced, combat-noncommissioned officer, that he had never seen such a ragtag, undisciplined hoard, so to speak—no control by the officers … the men sometimes went two months without getting haircuts. They would move from daylight to dark with no opportunity to get themselves cleaned up. Their night discipline was practically nothing. Never digging in at night. Never providing any cover for the men. The officers absolutely failing to do the jobs that they were supposed to do as officers to insure protection for their men. A pretty sordid story that comes out …”
Beers agreed that “the Charlie Company that I got back [from Task Force Barker] was not the Charlie Company that landed in Vietnam in December with me … Somewhere along the line, obviously, there was a breakdown of leadership and communications between Captain Medina and his platoon leaders and the noncommissioned officers.”† Beers had briefly visited with Medina at Landing Zone Dotti sometime in mid-March, he recalled, when the men were completing the My Lai 4 operation. The GIs’ anxiety over what had happened at My Lai 4 was shared by Captain Medina.
Major Harry P. Kissinger, III, the assistant chaplain of the 11th Brigade, spent a few days near Charlie Company shortly after the Son My operation. Knowing how highly company commanders value a large body count, “I said congratulations [to Medina]” for the 128 Viet Cong his men had helped kill. “I proceeded to ask about it, but I didn’t get too much response. I can’t remember any details of what he told me except a little nod and ‘Yes, it was so,’ or something like that … I did not receive the impression that he was proud … I proceeded to ask someone [else] about it and didn’t get too much of an answer. I just felt that he didn’t want to talk about it and left it hang, didn’t say any more.” As an afterthought, the chaplain noted he had stayed overnight in the field with the men, even going on a patrol. “Nothing was ever said to me by any of the men,” Kissinger went on. “I talked to a number of them there, and you’d think that someone would say something to the chaplain if there was anyone’s conscience bothering them.”
Yet within ten days, one GI told an Army lawyer about My Lai 4, and the shocked officer asked the soldier’s permission to report it. Because of some minor infraction, Medina had given the soldier an Article 15—nonjudicial company-level punishment that usually involves extra guard duty or more kitchen work. “This soldier began indicating a complete disgust with the Army in general and Co. C and CPT Medina in particular,” the lawyer—Captain Maurice E. Vorhies, then serving in the Americal Division’s legal office at Chu Lai—subsequently said in a private letter that was made available to me. “The substance of his complaint was that he simply could not understand how a man who had committed murder and ordered others to commit murder would now seek to impose punishment on him for some trivial misconduct.”
Vorhies quickly learned that the story of My Lai 4 had preceded him throughout the division; he also learned that no one was going to do anything about it. He took it up first with his immediate superior, Major Robert F. Comeau, then assistant staff judge advocate for the division. Comeau had served with the 11th Brigade before joining the staff at Chu Lai and knew of Medina by reputation. “After discussing the incident and the personalities involved,” Vorhies wrote, “partially from the standpoint that there was a possibility that my client was fabricating, or at least exaggerating, the facts in an effort to ‘get back’ at his CO [company commander] for giving him an Article 15, the discussion was dropped. Major Comeau indicated to me that he would ‘take care of it.’ ” (Comeau, during his brief testimony before the Panel, was asked if he recalled any “inquiry, investigation, report, or anything of that nature concerning the My Lai incident …” His answer was “No, sir.”)
Captain Vorhies then began asking questions down at the 11th Brigade headquarters in Duc Pho, when he found that Charlie Company’s high body count and low weapons report was “almost a joke.” Later he discussed the incident with an agent of the C.I.D., who was assigned to Duc Pho. “He told me that he had heard rumors of the incident on 16 March and other incidents involving C Co.… He informed me that he intended to investigate the matter. However, when I next spoke with him sometime later, he told me that he had been told by someone to ‘forget about it.’ To the best of my knowledge he did not actually conduct an investigation.” After that, the letter said, the lawyer discussed the accusation with some officers around Chu Lai, and gradually drifted into other matters. “Quite frankly, it was not that extraordinary. This was neither the first nor the last story I was to hear of alleged atrocities. It was unusual only by its magnitude.”
Some details of the massacre at My Lai 4 quickly became widely known throughout the 11th Brigade. Frank Beardslee, who went on the operation with Charlie Company, described his experiences to a number of enlisted men at the Duc Pho headquarters. Jay Roberts and Ronald Haeberle, the reporter and photographer who witnessed much of the killing, also told their friends about what they had seen. Clinton P. Stephens, the task force intelligence sergeant, said that he heard some GIs jokingly—he thought—remark “that Task Force Barker killed a lot of innocent civilians or Task Force Barker got a bunch of innocent civilians.”
At the 123rd Aviation Battalion, Captain Brian Livingston noticed with disgust that all of the newspapers published by the division and brigade information offices were reveling in “Barker’s Bandits” and their newest success against the crack enemy troops. One headline read: “TF Barker Crushes Enemy Stronghold.” On March 19, in the midst of the publicity drive, Livingston wrote another letter to his wife: “You remember I told you about the massacre I witnessed, well, I read a follow-up story in the paper. The article said, I quote, ‘The American troops were in heavy combat with an unknown number of VC. Two Americans were killed, seven wounded and 128 VC killed.’ That’s a bunch of bull.”
Most of the aviation company shared Livingston’s view. A few weeks after My Lai 4, Lawrence Kubert recalled, Major Watke assembled his company for a routine briefing by a young officer from division intelligence. “They reported one hundred and twenty CD, civil defendants, were killed at My Lai,” Kubert testified. “… I don’t remember who it was said, ‘Oh, you mean those women and children?’ … There were several comments made. The man who was briefing said, well, that they were known civil defendants who had worked for the VC. And then another comment was made. ‘They didn’t look like they could do much to us.’ And Major Watke stepped forward and said, ‘Let’s not have any more of that. It’s an old horse, we’ve already done what we can as far as these people are concerned … We’re going to start over again, more or less.’ ”
William Bezanson, who had flown above the hamlet in one of the troop-ferrying helicopters attached to the 123rd Aviation Battalion, told during an interview how he was able to live with what he had seen: “The first night we got back and were sitting in the bunker smoking dope. One of my buddies started shaking—it really freaked him out. He kept saying something like ‘What are we turning into?’ It was truly the first time I ever thought about that—I can remember. But it didn’t really matter that much; they were just gooks. The next day we were out flying again and killing again. You just put it in the back of your mind.”
Those GIs who did not participate in or witness the massacre enjoyed gossiping about it. According to Lieutenant Colonel Charles Anistranski, the Americal Division’s civil affairs officer, “there was a lot of talk about … near the end of March … GIs were talking in the mess halls … When we walked by the division headquarters, by the chapel … we could hear people talking about it. But it was all done very jokingly, ‘Hey, did ya hear about this? Hey, did ya hear about that?’ ” On a few occasions, the officer said, he also heard the names Lieutenant Calley and Sergeant Mitchell mentioned around headquarters. “Surprisingly,” Anistranski added with perhaps a touch of irony, “none of the commissioned personnel talked about it, none of the general staff members, at the mess or at any other place.”
The concern over loose talk and the obvious fear among most senior officers of a career-ruining scandal was confirmed by the frustrating experiences of Reverend Francis Lewis, the Methodist chaplain, who attempted during the next few weeks to discuss the report of an atrocity with the top leaders in the division. Chaplain Lewis, who heard Hugh Thompson’s story from an irate and persistent Father Carl Creswell, Thompson’s priest, took up the matter first with Lieutenant Colonel Jesmond Balmer, the operations officer for the division. “I told Balmer that I had heard some pretty bad things,” Lewis testified. “And he said he had, too, and that this was going to be thoroughly investigated.” Later the two men—Lewis and Balmer—discussed the operation again in the presence of Lieutenant Colonel Tommy Trexler, the intelligence chief. Lewis told the officers what he had learned from Creswell, and “both of them together said that they’d heard of these things. I remember that specifically. I didn’t get the full impact of atrocity, but I did get the impact of women and children being killed … [Balmer] said that there was a sergeant that fired into women and children.” At this or a later meeting, Lewis testified he said to Balmer, “ ‘Gee, who in the world goofed on this? Who in the world goofed?’ He said, ‘Well, we can’t always know exactly what gives.’ ” Lewis said he next brought up the subject of the investigation in a separate meeting with Colonel Nels Parson: “I said, ‘I wonder what’s the situation on My Lai and I’d like to talk to General Koster about it,’ or words to this effect. He said, ‘Well, it’s being investigated and we’re not to talk about it.’ In other words, he put me off in seeing the general on this.” The cleric then had a third discussion with Anistranski, who had already completed his abortive effort to inquire about the massacre. The civil affairs officer cautioned him not to talk about it, as did other lower-ranking officials in the headquarters.
During the testimony before the Peers Panel, most of the division officers heatedly denied any conversations with Reverend Lewis about the My Lai 4 investigation. Only Anistranski confirmed that he had told the priest not to pursue his questions. Anistranski explained why he did so: “Chaplain Lewis was the type that walked around and looked for a lot of information. If I knew the commanding general was conducting an investigation of some type, then it was my advice to him that he shouldn’t side-shoot the commanding general, if that’s what you want to call it.”
Chaplain Lewis even pursued the matter with Lieutenant Colonel Barker himself. He accidentally spotted Barker in division headquarters at Chu Lai one afternoon, and asked him about the report of wild shootings. Barker said, according to the chaplain, “Well, Lewis, as far as I’m concerned, it was combat. These occurred. It was tragic that we killed these women and children, but it was in a combat operation.” Lewis said Barker mentioned that he had discussed the operations with his officers and the men on the ground, and concluded that “the report [of an atrocity] we had heard at Division of something happening … was not true.”
Lewis was not the only officer to approach Barker privately. Another inquiry came from Captain Keshel, the 11th Brigade pacification officer who had heard many rumors about the incident in March and April. His discussion with Barker came after the task force had ended operations and the lieutenant colonel was working as executive officer of the brigade. “In the day-to-day activities,” Keshel testified, “I’d almost completely forgotten about this thing and I was sitting up in the hootch one night and I was reading the book The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich. And I was getting into the part about the German atrocities, and this pronged my mind a little bit about this thing, and I—as I said, it sort of bothered me, and I said, ’Hell, you know this is ridiculous; I’m just going to go and ask the colonel whether this thing has any truth. But I debated this for a couple of days—now because he is a colonel and he was also my boss, my rater … I figured I’d ask him, because I knew him, and I was real close to him, he liked me, and I held him in great respect … and so this conversation took place in the mess hall prior to dinner … Prior to dinner the officers—the staff officers, would make small talk, have a beer or a drink, and on this particular day, I asked him if I could talk to him, and he said, ‘You certainly can,’ and he came over to my side, and I just asked him. I said, ‘Sir,’ I said, ‘I have heard a couple of rumors … I heard a couple of things about Task Force Barker, when you had that task force, killing civilians,’ and I said, ‘I just want to know did this actually happen?’ And he just a—well, he looked like I had slapped him, you know. ‘The United States Army doesn’t operate this way, we don’t make war on innocent people, and that I, as commander, certainly had no knowledge of anything like this happening, and if it did happen, I wouldn’t condone any activity of this type’ … or words to this effect. And that was the end of the—our conversation … I walked away and I thanked him.”‡
The seeming lack of official information within the Americal Division could have been remedied by questioning that group which was most affected by the massacre—the survivors of My Lai 4.
* In June, 1968, Calley was given a new job as civil affairs and pacification officer for another of the battalions in the 11th Brigade. “He did remarkably well,” his commanding officer, Lieutenant Colonel William D. Kelley, told the Peers Panel, “considering that he had no experience. He was energetic. He did everything that I … told him to do.”
† By June, Charlie Company had been returned to its parent battalion for more than a month, but was still disorganized. Captain Jerry W. Swenson, then serving as the unit’s third commander in two months, talked about the men in a mid-1971 interview: “They lacked pride in themselves; their appearance was poor, they weren’t caring for their weapons … I knew that something had happened; that there was some type of incident.” Swenson had served with the 11th Brigade in Hawaii in 1967, when Charlie Company led its battalion in all competition. “I’m not a psychiatrist,” the young officer said, “but it wasn’t the same company that I knew before.” In some ways, it was the same, however. One Charlie Company member gave to the Peers Panel part of a daily diary he kept. It included the following extract, written in May, about two months after My Lai 4: “We went down to the valley. We took a path all the way down. When we got down to the bottom the first element saw some gooks running. They shot but missed. We took left flank and when we went about two hundred meters [another Charlie Company GI] saw three of them hiding in the brush—one woman, two men. They had food and medical supplies. Some of the guys messed with the girl; went down further into the valley. Some huts were there. We all ransacked the places and messed with the girls; tore off their clothes and screwed them. Sal beat up one. We left and came up a hill to break for chow and also to set up for night. I took some pictures.”
‡ Some staff officers of Task Force Barker became increasingly defensive in the waning days of the task force’s existence. There was one open clash involving Captain Winston Gouzoules, who handled pacification matters for another battalion of the 11th Infantry Brigade that operated near the task force in early 1968. Gouzoules chanced to make a sarcastic comment in late March about the killing of civilians by Task Force Barker in front of some young officers who had been on the mission. A few days later Gouzoules was told that he was no longer welcome in Barker’s area of operations. Weeks later, as the task force was disbanding, the captain visited Landing Zone Dotti and asked Major Calhoun about the incident. “He told me he didn’t want to hear any more comments on Task Force Barker, and I tried to tell him at the time that I hadn’t made any …” the captain said. “After that, it was forgotten.”