Scorched Earth

by Fred A. Wilcox

  —Chris Hedges

  Ken Herrman landed on Hill 435, better known as LZ West, during the battle for Nui Cham Mountain. Grunts were pulling body bags off choppers, helping the walking wounded, and tossing supplies onto departing birds. It was May 1968, four months after the Vietcong and the North Vietnamese army had attacked every town and city in the southern half of Vietnam, sustaining heavy losses but still capable of waging fierce attacks against American forces.

  Herrmann was assigned to operate a radio at night, communicating with infantry companies in the valley below LZ West.

  “The operations officer for the battalion was an insomniac who spent hours each night discussing the war, philosophy, literature, and the madness in which we were all immersed. One night he asked me what I’d like to do during the war. I said, ‘leave and go home.’ He laughed and asked if I’d like to work with the Vietnamese in the valley. I’d been a teacher and a social worker before being drafted, and he thought this was a good background for doing that.”

  Herrmann soon found himself trudging along with infantrymen throughout the valley and west from the Que Son Valley into Hiep Duc Valley, an area heavily controlled by the Vietcong.

  As Civil Affairs officer for the battalion, he organized med-caps (medical clinics for the locals), distributed propaganda posters, and broadcasted propaganda over backpack loudspeakers to lure the enemy into surrendering.

  “I was briefly assigned the responsibility for psychological operations. That meant that I became the disc jockey for the valley. I carried a thirty-pound speaker system on my back and a cassette recorder in my pack. Accompanied by an interpreter, I would crawl around in the night, broadcasting the names of suspected Vietcong and playing loud Vietnamese love songs to make the VC so homesick they would stop fighting. During a few firefights, we played these songs and read the names. The music did not seem to have any effect on the fighters at all. It did have an effect that we could measure just once. We sat on a hill, played tunes, and begged the enemy to surrender for a straight twenty-four hours. The next day, US troops were shocked to see thirty VC holding their weapons in the air and surrendering. I never knew if they could not stand the music we chose, and surrendering seemed the only way to stop us from playing it, or we actually broke their morale.”

  Herrmann became the liaison between Saigon regime troops and his unit. Then, accompanied by about fifty South Vietnamese soldiers, he relocated to a small knoll along the Tu Bon River. His mission was to establish a displaced persons’ village farther west than his unit had ever gone.

  During the following months, Herrmann resettled thousands of people and arranged for food distribution, medical care, housing construction, a school, and assistance from agricultural experts.

  “This was my village,” he recalls. “These were my people. The battalion created a no-fire zone around Hiep Duc Village. Troops firing at my people were seen by me as the enemy. They were attacking what quickly became my family. An odd family it was. The people were malnourished. Most had malaria and severe skin disorders. A number had leprosy. Many bore the scars of battle. A four-year-old girl wandered in one morning with her brain exposed; somehow still able to walk. An American grenade had blown off part of her skull.

  “I wasn’t a very skilled warrior. The first time under fire I was with a rifle platoon near the village. There was the sound of something flying quickly by my ear. People were screaming, ‘sniper,’ and I just lay on the ground while grunts fired on full automatic into the trees and bushes. Silence, and a soldier joking, ‘Man, you almost bought it.’ That round missed me by less than an inch. I can still hear the sound.”

  Herrmann still finds it hard to believe that the military would give him, a reluctant warrior, the responsibility for about 2,000 people who were malnourished, frightened, wounded, and ridden with malaria and other diseases.

  “This was Hiep Duc in 1968–1969. Almost daily mortar attacks, snipers, firefights. Imagine having absolutely no idea what to do in such a position, just flying by the seat of your pants. The military never acknowledged my ignorance. The US Army informed me that I knew what to do, and that I was doing a good job. I agreed. Completely.”

  The military thought it always knew more than the Vietnamese, and this self-righteous attitude made Herrmann and other soldiers feel successful. He was awarded a Bronze Star and the Saigon government’s Cross of Gallantry. One month after he arrived home, the valley exploded in some of the fiercest fighting of the war. Herrmann wondered who had received his .45 pistol and M-16, and if that soldier, and the one after that, had survived the war.

  “I was met by relatives at the Buffalo airport. My nephew was about nine and asked me at the airport what I had done in the war. His father said, ‘We won’t talk about this.’ I didn’t until years later. I drank for medicinal purposes, relived fire-fights and insanity each night, and pretended the war I carried with me had ended with my return in 1969. It did not.”

  In 1998, a couple of friends asked Herrmann if he would travel to Vietnam with them. At first, he refused, but in time he agreed to go.

  “We spent much of our time,” laughs Herrmann, “hiding in hotels, and the rest visiting places where we had served. I returned to Hiep Duc.”

  At first, he didn’t recognize the village where he’d lived for a year. Foliage hid the ravages of war; he couldn’t smell defoliants or napalm. People told him that the tin smells in the air and the off-green color of the countryside were due to dioxin.

  “I knew this was my old village when I saw the familiar riverbanks, the small knoll where I’d lived in a culvert, a sandbagged hole; and the surrounding mountains on which so much American and Vietnamese blood had been shed. This was the place that local myth taught was filled with the unsettled spirits of the thousands who had died liberating their nation.”

  This was the beginning of Ken Herrmann’s healing. He wanted to learn about Vietnamese history, culture, religious practices, and literature. He hoped to get to know the people his generation had been taught to hate and trained to kill. He hoped one day to create a study abroad program for students at SUNY Brockport, the college where he was a Social Work professor. A few years later, he managed to do just that.

  In this program, students spend a semester in Danang studying Vietnamese language, culture and history, offering English language lessons to Vietnamese children, visiting and assisting Agent Orange families, and delivering food and other supplies to a leper colony accessible by boat.

  Herrmann wants students to get out of the classroom and meet Vietnamese people, to experience Vietnam’s 4,000 year-old culture, and to understand the toll that decades of warfare have taken on Vietnam. At one point, he wrote an article in a Vietnamese newspaper suggesting that people write to him about the effects of Agent Orange on their families. Letters poured in from all over the country, and before long he had boxes filled with more than 4,000 accounts of suffering and urgent pleas for help from men, women, and children.

  In some cases, the letter-writer was exposed to Agent Orange while fighting in the war. In others, writers were the children or grandchildren of parents who ate food and drank water contaminated with Agent Orange.

  Herrmann calls these letters “a chronicle of courage, determination, and hope. They are also an account of illness, poverty, bewilderment, and despair. Writers want to know why the country that waged a scorched earth campaign in Vietnam is unwilling to help them. Has America forgotten about Vietnam? Is Agent Orange/dioxin mutagenic? How many years, how many victims, will it take for Vietnam to be free of the curse of dioxin?”

  LETTERS

  Nam Dinh, June 02, 2004

  To: SUNY Brockport from a rural village in North Vietnam.

  Before April 1975, my husband fought in the Liberation Army in South Eastern Vietnam. Agent Orange affected him during this time. We married after he came back from the war. We have three children who are also affected by Agent Orange. All three of them are paralyzed. They cannot do anything by themsel
ves. I have to be around to provide twenty-four-hour care.

  Although we are receiving care and assistance from the local government, this still is not enough to recover from this endless pain.

  I suggest that your program send these letters to the US president, the Americans, and the company producing this deadly agent. They must be aware of our ongoing pain and should officially apologize to my people and compensate for what they have caused in my country.”

  Thank you,

  Bui Thi Bon

  To Prof. Kenneth Herrmann, director

  SUNY Brockport Veteran Program

  I am writing this letter in response to the appeal you made in the Thanh Nien Newspaper on May 24, 2004.

  My name is Ho Van Xanh. I was born in 1936 in Phuoc Son Hiep Duc, Quang Nam. I am from the ethnic minority group. During the war between the US and Vietnam, I saw the US helicopters dumping Agent Orange onto my hometown. Right after that all of the plants and vegetables were killed. I am an ethnic minority group so I spent all of my life in the mountainous area. I ate vegetables and drank water from this area.

  I have had arthritis since 1975. It is getting worse over time.

  My granddaughter was born in 2002. When she was born she had little black moles on her skin. Over time, these black spots have gotten much bigger. They cover the right side of her body, are on her face, legs and arms, and are still spreading. On these black areas she is also growing fur similar to an animal.

  Thank you.

  Ho Van Xanh

  Professor Kenneth Herrmann

  Director of the SUNY Brockport Vietnam Program

  I am Le Quang Chon. I am 54 years old.

  I would like to present my family’s circumstances.

  I joined the Vietnamese People’s Army and fought at the Tay Nguyen Battlefield for national independence.

  I have been infected with Agent Orange used by the US Army in Vietnam. In consequence of this my wife has had three monsters in three pregnancies followed by three disabled children:

  —Le Thi Thoa: Congenitally amputated.

  —Le Quang Chien: disabled and deformed

  —Le Quang Chuong: disabled left leg (Cannot move.)

  The photos of our three children are attached to this letter.

  For me, I have been infected directly with Agent Orange: poor eyesight, losing most of my lower jaw’s teeth, two loose teeth, often getting ill, gastrectomy of three-fourths of my stomach, gangrene of forty cm of my intestine, rheumatic limbs, neurasthenia.

  My wife is in panic when seeing such a husband and children. Therefore, she has a mental disease. Sometimes, she does not know what she is doing. My family has too many difficulties in both material and spiritual life. My family members have suffered from the effects of the Agent Orange. Therefore, we have to speak up in order that the world people know the Agent Orange victims’ losses.

  Yours,

  Le Quang Chon

  Trinh Nga Hamlet

  Hoang Trinh Commune,

  Hoang Hoa District, Thanh Hoa Province

  Dear Professor Kenneth Herrmann,

  My name is Tran Thi Lanh. I was born and raised in Trieu Phong, Quang Tri. This area was mercilessly destroyed by chemical warfare during the American war.

  My daughter is two years old but she cannot speak or sit up. Her head is getting bigger while her muscles are getting smaller. Our life is very difficult. We have to live off of my parents and my neighbors.

  I know that you are collecting letters from across Vietnam. I hope that my daughter will be another proof to illustrate the disastrous effects of the AO the American soldiers used during the war.

  Thank you.

  Tran Thi Lanh

  Dear Professor Herrmann,

  My name is Phan Phuoc Trung and I am fifty-five years old.

  My wife’s name is To Thi Dieu and she is fifty years old.

  I was very touched to read the appeal that you made in the newspaper. The article came to me like an angel’s arrival to save the lives of millions of AO victims in my country.

  We, the AO victims in Vietnam, really appreciate your concern for us. The war has been over for almost thirty years. The Americans have begun to forget about us while millions of the Vietnamese people are still living with its disastrous effects. It is a tragedy. There are millions of Vietnamese families who are living with persistent pain caused by the American troops during the war. There are many families, Dear Mr., that are affected into the third generation. We still have no idea when AO will stop affecting the health and safety of my innocent people. It may affect the fourth and fifth generations. The list may be longer.

  Dioxin still exists in the soil we cultivate, the water we drink, and the food we eat. This means that it sill exists within each Vietnamese citizen.

  The US government has admitted the effect of AO on the American troops who served in the Vietnam War. The veterans have been compensated. It is unjust with the AO victims.

  All of the Vietnamese AO victims have been living in silence. They are lonely, coping with their pains and losses. The company producing this deadly agent must be responsible for this. It is time for us to share with you our pains.

  Yes, I am going to share with you the story of my family. My wife and I were born and raised in Hue. We married and had five healthy and good-looking children before we moved to Ninh Son, Ninh Thuan Province in 1994. By the end of 1995, our daughter named Phan Thi My Lien was born. We were miserable to know that Lien had a cleft lip and that her head was flat. She is nine years old now, but she cannot walk, cannot speak, and cannot recognize anything. She weighs ten kilos (22 pounds). We were very nervous and were told that the place where we were living was heavily sprayed with AO during the American War. We immediately sold our house and moved to a different place. A couple of years ago, I came back to this place to visit my neighbors. I discovered that the family who had bought my house also gave birth to a disabled child. Their son is mentally retarded. I also learned that the midwife who helped with Lien’s arrival also had two disabled children. Both of them had died. In addition to this, there are many disabled children in this area.

  I just shared with you the story about my family. This is just one of millions of stories about AO victims in Vietnam. Please communicate to any people you know about how deadly this agent is.

  Many thanks.

  Phan Phuoc Trung

  Truc Ninh, Nam Dinh, May 31, 2004

  Dear Professor Kenneth Herrmann,

  I would like to tell you the story about my family. My father came from a poor family. He joined the Liberation Army in November 1969 and became a tank driver. He traveled across Southern Vietnam. He came back home in September 1975, rejoined the army in September 1987, and came back home shortly after that. He then married my mother. A year after my parents were married, my sister, Nguyen Thi Xuan, was born. When she was five days old, she began to have seizures. My parents sent her to many hospitals in the area but it did not help. She was paralyzed. My mother had to stop working to provide care to my sister.

  Two years later I was born. The same symptoms occurred: half of my body was paralyzed. Life became more difficult.

  When my father was forty-six years old, he was diagnosed with cancer and passed away shortly after that. All the family’s belongings were sold for his medication and treatment.

  My mother became a single mother with two disabled children when she was thirty-eight years old. It has been twenty-three years. My mother has heart disease but she has to work very hard for us.

  I am luckier than my sister is. I am a tailor. Nevertheless, I still find it hard to integrate into the community. People seem to ignore me and make fun of my disability.

  I have attached a picture of my sister. I wish you good health.

  Thanks.

  Nguyen Thi Vien

  Dear Professor Kenneth Herrmann,

  The war has been over for almost thirty years. However, the disastrous effects are still there in every corner of Vietnam. It is he
artbreaking to think about the large amounts of dioxin that was sprayed by American troops from 1964 to 1975.

  I was born during the time American troops were spraying dioxin. My name is Nguyen Thi Hong and I was born in 1955. I currently live in Trung Nam hamlet, Que Trung commune, Que Son district, Quang Nam Province.

  I was a common resident who was living in the area where American troops sprayed dioxin. At that time the weather became increasingly hot and famine was widespread. However, both the food and water were badly contaminated. Regardless of the spraying, we drank the water without paying any attention to its pungent smell. We also ignored side effects such as headaches and dizziness. I didn’t think about the long-term effects.

  I gave birth to my only child in 1995. Her name is Nguyen Thi Thuy Van. Unfortunately, she suffered from malnourishment. She did not recognize any movements until she was two years old. In addition to her mental state, she also has an inborn heart defect; this serious disease is always life-threatening.

  Since this time our economic condition has dramatically gotten worse. I have been spiritually devastated knowing that my only child is in danger. As a widow, I don’t know what to do to help my daughter. It is most miserable to know that the poisonous water I drank when I was young is the cause of her disease. The poison has passed from my genes to hers.

  I am very glad to read about your appeals. I write this letter with the hope that you will help us. Ask the American government and dioxin manufacturers to be responsible for these disastrous effects.

  My family as well as millions of Vietnamese Agent victims is very grateful for your concern and kindness. I wish you great health.