Veteran Warrior Writings

Warrior writings

The Visit to My Lai (page 4)

I did not need a visit to My Lai to be reminded of the inhumanity that I personally witnessed as a soldier, but the forgiveness that a survivor of that inhumanity gave in a place that concentrates the worst that war can bring is a gift made more precious and potent by that very contrast. I am repaying her gift and making my peace with the Vietnamese people by working with new friends in Vietnam to help disadvantaged children.

Her story was incredibly moving, and she told it with such matter-of-fact, quiet, dignity in a soft, steady voice. Spellbound, in rapt attention we listened to her words, mesmerized by her methodical weeding, each phrase slowly translated by our Vietnamese guide and interpreter. She was 42 years old in 1968. She was shot in the thigh and side. She survived by hiding motionless underneath the body of her 14 year-old daughter until the soldiers left. She told us that she was very grateful, not only to have survived that terrible morning, but that she was still alive in good health. She was so privileged to be able to spend her days tending to the My Lai memorial. She was especially grateful to be of some comfort to the many American soldiers who visited, such as Wally, who needed so much forgiveness. It made her very happy and satisfied to be of service.

What an incredible lesson in forgiveness and compassion, if only the leaders of my nation were as wise, as sensible. With unutterable grace, she thanked us, got up and left. I got up and walked back down by the ditch and following her lucid example of simple service did what I could do – I started policing the area, picking up refuse and sticks, finding here and there a cigarette butt that I carefully and methodically field-stripped, like a ritual tea ceremony, for the first time over three decades.

When I left the Memorial Park, Jane, the VA employee and former wife of a 100 per cent disabled vet, and Heather, the daughter of a Marine, who had prematurely died the year before, were sitting out in the refreshment/souvenir stand playing with several Vietnamese children, including one bright-faced little girl, wearing a Mickey mouse-like hat, who was the survivor’s grand-daughter. It was a hopeful and up-lifting way to end the visit to My Lai. The horror is long gone. Though it should never be fully forgotten, it doesn’t have to be stared at either. We can move beyond it. The expectant future belongs to the young, and they deserve the best that we can fashion for them.