Boyce: Lt. Calley handed the villagers over to us and said, “You know how I want you to handle this!”
Sledge: “Clean up the trash!” was Calley’s order to us.
Boyce: We were about ten or fifteen feet away from them when Lt. Calley opened fire first. We had to use four or five twenty-bullet clips apiece.
To Chuok: I’m forty-eight years old. I’ve seen all the wars. I make my living as a farmer. I have no interest in the Liberation Front or in the ARVN. All my life I’ve been praying for the smoke of the war to go far, far away from our village. That day when the American soldiers came to our village, our family was eating breakfast. As ordered by the soldiers, we left our house and along with many others swarmed into the square. The Americans made us gather closer and sit down. Even then we had no reason to fear them. We were joking and laughing, nobody showing any sign of alarm. Only when we saw them setting up machine guns did we sense what was going on and begin to wail and beg for mercy. Some of us showed the Americans our government ID cards, but they only said “Sorry.” The firing began. I was hit in the leg but got buried under the corpses and kept my life by playing dead. In a few seconds I lost my wife and two daughters. After lying there about an hour, I pushed my way out from under the dead bodies and ran into the jungle. None of them felt any danger at first. The villagers even welcomed the soldiers. I’ve lost my village and my family forever. There’s nowhere for me to return to. Never again will I welcome American soldiers.
Conti: We were all nervous and excited. Once the firing started, it went on and on in a kind of chain reaction. Most of us thought we would be engaged with enemy combat troops, but it didn’t work out that way. At first, we saw a few men running away, but before we knew what we were doing, we found ourselves recklessly gunning down everyone in sight. It was like collective madness. Everybody was firing. When we went into that village, the command system broke down and everyone was swept up in that strange burning fever.
Brooks: Upon hearing the gunfire, we, the 2nd platoon, rushed into the village and started killing and destroying at random, shooting our flamethrowers everywhere.
West: We, the 3rd platoon, intercepted some villagers who were scared by the sound of shooting and trying to run away in all directions. We shot them. It was useless for them to try to escape the envelopment because the gunships were waiting in the air just overhead. We thought there was a firefight underway with enemy forces in the hamlet. That crazy bastard Lt. Calley is responsible for that. By 0815 Capt. Medina was right behind my 3rd platoon.
Medina: Until after 1000. I had not set foot in the village, and I hadn’t killed a single civilian.
Carter: As he entered My Lai, Medina did shoot a few civilians to death. As the 3rd platoon was entering the hamlet, we found a woman and someone had forced her down on the ground. Capt. Medina shot her with his M16. I saw the scene from about fifty feet away. There was no need to shoot her. Then we ran into a soldier who had rounded up about twenty Vietnamese—men, women and children—and Medina ordered the soldier to “kill them all, down to the last one.” Later Medina caught a boy of about seventeen who was driving a water buffalo. He yelled at the boy to run away, but the boy just stood there. Then Medina just started firing at the boy with his rifle.
[At this point the CID investigator warned Carter that he was making grave accusations against his commanding officer, but Carter insisted upon continuing.]
What I have said about Medina is the truth. I swear that my statement is the truth.
Concluding Comments
The investigation did not clearly resolve the question whether the company commander gave orders to the platoon leaders to kill at random. It was confirmed, however, that Capt. Medina was present at the scene of the incident. Included in this file are photographs taken by two reporters, Roberts and Haeberle. They eventually will be disclosed to the public. There are dozens of photos of dead animals, dead human beings, and village dwellings ablaze. One photo of a soldier shooting children aged six and seven. One photo of a dead boy on top of his younger brother’s corpse. Capt. Medina’s report at the time stated that fifty Viet Cong were killed and twenty suspects captured. This case will be a propaganda windfall for the Liberation Front and they are sure to exploit it politically. Four hundred fifty civilians were shot. The case should not be concealed, rather it must be examined in full view and those concerned treated strictly under military law.
The concept of “search-and-destroy” missions is thought to be in need of qualification. It is imperative to collect information in detail on as many cases as possible of massacres committed by the Liberation Front in order to publicize those fratricidal atrocities.
16
“Air! Air!” the guide shouted.
With inured skill the bicycles and bundles instantly were covered with camouflage nets and all the fighters in the file hit the ground, taking cover in the leaves. The noise of whirring helicopter propellers came closer. They turned out to be observation aircraft rather than an attack formation. It was a reconnaissance mission of three choppers. Escorted by two small gunships, a camera-equipped helicopter was methodically covering that whole region of the jungle. When it came upon a clearing, the helicopter hovered in a circle for a while as if to peer down narrow paths and point its cameras under the canopy of trees on the fringes. Meantime, the gunships fired occasional bursts with their machine guns—neutralization fire.
Pham Minh was sprawled among the bushes with the other fighters. In the course of basic training at the Temporary Atwat Military School, he learned methods of concealment and survival on long marches down the Ho Chi Minh Trail. A comrade lying near him shrugged his shoulders then stuffed a red handkerchief into his own mouth. Muffled coughing followed. Taking out his canteen Pham Minh unscrewed the top and held it out to him. The man nodded in thanks and hastily gulped down a few mouthfuls.
They were marching along a mountain ridge near the Laotian border. For security reasons, the Atwat Military School was divided into two units; the basic training phase was conducted apart from more advanced training courses. The two locations were about twenty-five miles apart, making it a day-and-a-half march from one to the other. Their group was forty-eight in all, including the guide and a political officer.
The Seventieth Transport Division of the regular forces of the North Vietnamese Army was in charge of movements along the trail. At the beginning and end of each day’s march there were rest areas with food and beds and medical treatment. The group was split into three sections for the march, and each unit was spread out in a long double file, with at least fifteen feet between individuals. Before departure they scouted the immediate area and received briefings on any operations or changes of situation between there and the next stopping place. Anything unusual would delay departure until the situation could be assessed.
Not only personnel, but also ammunition, explosives, and other war materiel were constantly being moved along the Ho Chi Minh Trail. In better times, the trail had been hectic with motor vehicles coming and going, but now each segment was set up as part of a secret relay network and supplies were moved by bicycles and small carts. Vehicles were still in use only on a few stretches where the road was still intact under the cover of thick jungle.
In the first phase of basic training, the urban guerrillas of the Second and Third Special Districts mainly concentrated on military tactics and use of weapons. They were taught a range of hit-and-run tactics and various methods of urban warfare. As for firearms, the instructors showed them how to shoot, disassemble, and take care of small arms such as pistols, carbines, and automatic weapons. They also became familiarized with enemy weapons and ammunitions and learned what was known as “guerrilla cookery,” namely, how to improvise homemade weapons, bombs, booby traps, and so forth. There were demonstrations on the fuse mechanisms of time bombs and they were taught how to make detonators for plastic explosives.
They picked up
a few tricks especially useful for urban fighters. For instance, if you stick a live cartridge inside the tip of a fountain pen or a ballpoint pen and rig a firing pin to the coiled spring, it makes a wonderful weapon for killing someone facing you at close range. Another item, specifically designed for attacks on buildings or vehicles, was a “guinea pig cocktail.” A mixture of two parts gasoline to three parts motor oil in a throwable container with a cotton cloth wick. The density of the oil made the inflammatory gasoline stick to the target.
They were taught how to make bombs from the empty ration tins discarded by American soldiers. You stuffed it with nails and gunpowder, sealed it with tape and stuck a detonating pin through the top. For another common booby trap, tape a grenade to a gate where the target will emerge, then connect a tripwire to the grenade pin and string it just above the ground where feet will stumble over it. They were also shown how to disarm and reuse landmines and other bombs.
The training also included doctrines and rules for planning and executing operations. For example, they learned that urban guerrillas should always plan their own safe escape before embarking on an attack. The assault should be rehearsed and the target and scene carefully observed and confirmed two or three times before proceeding. Be inconspicuous. On the street, keep away from the curb. Avoid telephone contacts if possible. Never discuss politics. Have a job. Spend breaks reading quietly instead of drinking or playing games. Be wary of fellow workers. Arrange all meetings with a fallback procedure. Select the targets that are easiest, most accessible, and most concrete. The rules were so many and so detailed that it was impossible to remember them all.
The second phase of training was political education and propaganda tactics. Until the early sixties, all guerrillas received four to six months of special indoctrination in Suanmai near Hanoi or in Thanh Hóa in the south before being shipped to Binh to finish the course at Dong Hoi Military Camp. But as the American forces increased in strength and the NLF forces suffered greater losses, the length of training had been drastically shortened.
In the period from the start of training until the first infiltration mission, at least a quarter of their military strength was lost, mainly from air bombardment and diseases in the jungle. Small-scale camps for training guerrillas for the central Vietnam theater were now scattered throughout the highland jungle in the region of the Atwat Mountains. The trail guides were mostly local natives of the highland country. They led the troop contingents for about half a day and then turned them over to the next guide and returned to their base. In this way, communications passed quickly and each base point had an idea what was happening elsewhere through the comings and goings of the guides. Radio equipment was rare, so for signaling they made do with whistles and woodblocks.
Upon setting off on the march, each guerrilla trainee was issued a backpack with food for three days and a little first-aid kit. The backpacks were no more than rubber bags with cloth flaps. Their equipment consisted of two sets of black civilian clothing, a pair of Ho Chi Minh sandals, a sweater, a hammock with a mosquito net, a camouflage waterproof cape for the rain, one rifle, a hundred cartridges, and two hand grenades. But upon reaching their destination at the training camp, they had to turn in everything they’d been issued. Pham Minh’s group was scheduled for only a short march, so they had not been given any heavy equipment.
The sound of two wooden blocks striking together rang out. Pham Minh got up from the ground, his chest completely soaked. Through the leaves the sky looked torn into palm-sized patches. The jungle air was like steam inside a pressure cooker. Because of the humid heat and the malaria-bearing mosquitoes, after five days of marching along the trail there had to be a two-day rest. Pham Minh looked about at his comrades as they got to their feet and back into line. Nobody spoke. They’d been instructed to march in silence.
Upon receiving a hand signal from the point, the unit leader sent back the message, quietly ordering “March.”
Once again they started walking down the trail that was about ten feet in width. Each of the three units in their group had been given five heavily loaded bicycles they were responsible for delivering to the next point. By transporting these supplies as they relocated, the trainees were fulfilling a dual role. They were also resupplying the rural guerrillas with artillery—rockets, mortar shells, grenades, and landmines. As long as this supply line remained intact, there would be attacks every night. For each bicycle, three men took turns pushing.
There was a unit of men, wearing outfits like their own, coming down the trail towards them from the opposite direction. Judging from their red neckerchiefs, they must have been new NLF recruits, either in training or having just completed indoctrination. They looked worn-out and exhausted. One of them was being carried on a stretcher. Sick with malaria, probably. Most likely they would leave him with the medics at one of the rest camps. But that was only possible on the trail, and if you came down with malaria after you’ve infiltrated the enemy zone, you were more likely to be left to die. Down in the forests and up in the skies overhead there were American search-and-destroy units scanning the terrain.
They had passed beyond the end of the main trail after the midday meal and were descending down the endless south slope of the mountains. Laos was across the ridge. Before them a vast jungle was spread out with no trace of human habitation. The second-phase Atwat school was hidden in a valley along a stream. Nothing of it was visible from the air, but as they approached they could see a rather spacious clearing and under the jungle canopy a row of barracks with earthen walls and roofs of thatched palm fronds. There was also a solid-looking brick building with olive green walls and a roof camouflaged with foliage from banana and palm trees. It might have once been a plantation run by the French. There were rows of rubber trees along the stream.
After roll call the group had a late-afternoon dinner. The food there was better than in basic training. They were served canned fish, pork broth, and rice. Here they had a hospital, a reading room, and even a few recreation facilities for table tennis and volleyball. The trainees were assigned bunks in the barracks and issued textbooks that they were to study over the next four weeks.
The last group had finished training and departed two days earlier. The only sleeping gear they were given to use with the bamboo bunks was a single sheet. The ten women in their group were quartered separately in the main barracks. All the instructors were middle-aged NLF veterans. A few of them had been liberation fighters in the old days with the Viet Minh movement against the French. The political commissar in charge of their indoctrination was a North Vietnamese army regular, a lieutenant.
They had one day of rest, when they could sleep and wash their clothes. Pham Minh lay down on his bunk and looked through the study texts. They consisted of a pamphlet entitled “Proclamation to Patriotic Youths,” taken from Mao Zedong’s Strategic Theory of Endurance, and a small booklet with excerpts from Liberation War and the People’s Army by Vo Nguyen Giap, August Revolution by Truong Chinh, and The Road to Revolution by Ho Chi Minh, as well as abridgements of the classic texts of Marx and Lenin.
A liberation war is a protracted struggle and a difficult war, and we must rely mainly upon ourselves. For we are politically strong but materially weak, while the enemy is politically weak but materially strong. Guerrilla warfare is an expedient that enables the people of a weak and under-equipped country to hold out against invaders who have the advantage of a higher grade of technology. If we consider revolution as a form of art, then its crucial content lies in generating a form of struggle that fits the political situation at each stage of the struggle. At the beginning, our main mission was political struggle and the armed struggle was secondary. Step by step, however, each has acquired equal importance until armed struggle at last has reached a level where it now plays a leading role in the revolution.
Do not attempt to achieve too many goals. Do not disrupt the existing social structure; instead, make use of it. Even
if it is an organized cell of the enemy’s power, do not destroy but rather accept it. To combat a power that is too enormous and strong for us to destroy, make use of it by amorphous combinations. Then, if necessary, disintegrate its leadership and absorb the followers into the Front’s organizations.
While working in secret, use all conceivable means to undermine the enemy organization, but always remain outwardly rational concerning questions of power sharing with the enemy. Certain attitudes should not be displayed openly. Make a strict distinction between open and secret parts of our organization and minimize the traffic between the two. The important mission of the open division is to promote the support of the vast common mass, while the mission of the secret division is the accumulation and seizure of political power.
Do not hesitate to interpret the ideology of the revolution in any way deemed advantageous. Do not reveal the concept of the class struggle except to key cadres. If possible, avoid provoking animosity from anyone. In this way, the formation of opposition forces can be preempted in advance.
Bear in mind the circumstance that in Vietnam altruism is seldom encountered, and therefore combine the materialistic foundations of Communism with egocentric sentiments of democracy in an appropriate manner. Success or failure is all, victories, albeit minor, must be won through ideology, but the greater triumph must be won through nationalism. In the end we must prevail and be victorious not as Communists but as nationalists.
Use the countryside as the base for your struggle and later extend the struggle into the cities. In the country the political opportunities are greater and the risk smaller. Do not succumb to the temptations of city life. But forge an alliance between country and city by cultivating strong solidarity between peasants and workers.
The Shadow of Arms Page 23