On a gray, overcast day I was driving by endless miles of verdant green rice paddies to the central Vietnamese hamlet of Son My. In 1968 this was the site of the notorious incident known as the My Lai Massacre; when American soldiers killed over five-hundred civilians, mostly old men, women and children and then torched the buildings. The hamlet has since been reconstructed to look as it did after the carnage.
The village today displays rice paddies and the burned out foundations of homes.
I was only seven years old when the My Lai massacre occurred, but I still remember seeing disturbing photos of it in Life magazine. Now I was standing at the irrigation ditch where over one hundred of the bodies were found. My Lai is an emotionally tough place for anyone to visit, let alone an American.
Standing there I tried to contemplate the madness that occurred on this peaceful spot. Roosters crowed in the distance and the pungent smell of burning brush wafted over the village. It was an ordinary day, just like the one when the massacre occurred. Then I looked down and noticed hundreds of bare footprints along the path, many of them the tiny footprints of young children. They were interspersed randomly with imprints of army boots.
When the memorial was built the muddy pathways among the rice paddies were recreated out of brown concrete. Before it hardened they placed random imprints of army boots and bare feet to represent the killing frenzy that took place here. Boot prints lead up to individual houses and then build to a crescendo at the ditch.
A toddler at My Lai today.
The effect is that of the Guernica painting come to life on the ground. The imprints reflect the slaughter that took place that day; barefoot civilians being led to their death by booted soldiers. It’s a thought-provoking touch that effectively takes a visitor back to what happened here.
Uncle Do alongside the irrigation ditch.
A small Vietnamese man tugged at my elbow as I was trying to absorb it all. He started pantomiming what happened on that fateful day, making shooting and stabbing motions. Then he pointed to the ditch and demonstrated how all the bodies were laying there. He stood behind the trunk of a palm tree, as if demonstrating hiding behind it. It occurred to me that he was about my age, was he demonstrating something that happened to him?
The man’s extended family of about twelve people walked over to us. I had been speaking to Uncle Do, the head of the clan. The family ranged in age from about six to seventy-six: children, parents, grandparents. Their age range approximated those of the victims.
His fifteen-year-old niece Mong spoke some English and asked where I was from. I hesitated. Considering where I was standing it was the first time I was tempted to say I was Canadian, but I said “US.” What happened next surprised me. The family surrounded me, shaking my hand and asking to take photos together. We were standing at the site of the worst American massacre of the war and they were greeting me like a long-lost friend.
Meeting Uncle Do's family.
Uncle Do took my arm and we spent the next half hour wandering about the preserved remains of the destroyed hamlet, somber Pied Pipers for the rest of the family tailing along behind us. He pointed out various points of significance along the way, even leading me inside one of the homemade bomb shelters where many of the villagers had been hiding before they were forced out by the troops. When our trek was finished each of the family members shook my hand and, through our ad hoc interpreter Mong, wished me well on the rest of my journey.
Standing astride the footprints are a proud father and grandmother.
It was an experience that would be repeated throughout Vietnam. A few days later Larissa and I were deep in the jungle climbing around the ruins of My Son, a 10th-century temple complex. Parts of the temple are still standing but one area is a pile of flattened rubble due to an errant US Air Force bombing run. In halting English a local visitor asked where we were from. Upon hearing my response he stopped and said, “US-Vietnam friends” before going on his way.
Amid the rubble of the 10th-century My Son temple these men welcomed us.
Vietnam is a country that is poised between a violent history and a potentially bright future. While they remember the past they don’t dwell on it and, if our experience is any indication, they certainly don’t hold a grudge. We left Vietnam with warm feelings for all the people we met. They have replaced the pain of the past with hope for the future. In a sense they are forging new footprints.
The statue at My Lai represents the unbending will of the Vietnamese people.
Click the link to read more about our travel to Vietnam.
With Little Rocky's help, Larissa stops traffic in Saigon.
{ 14 comments… read them below or add one }
Very moving post, and a reminder that in any number of countries, people seem so willing and able to distinguish the actions of the U.S. government from their feelings of friendship and curiosity toward individual Americans. It’s a lesson we could learn from them.
It’s interesting that we found the same thing to be true in North Korea. Despite the relentless propoganda they receive about Americans, the North Koreans we met were quite friendly.
Jeez…this made me cry. What a neat experience despite the somber circumstances for the memorial. Humbling, inspiring and so full of hope. Good for you for not saying “Canadian”!
This is such a touching commentary. I see now why so many people do go to Viet Nam. There are people all over the world still fighting events that happened hundreds of years ago and won’t let go of their enmity towards their former enemies. How peaceful the world would be if we could all forgive and forget.
Forgive yes, but important not to forget.
I have never considered an Asian vacation, however all your reports from Viet Nam make me re-consider.
It’s a great place to visit and is certainly cheap.
Hi Michael & Larissa,
This was very moving. I must bow to both your honesty and to the ability of the Vietnamese to truly pardon.
Have a great day.
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Thanks Barbara.
Though the massacre occurred in March ’68, the news didn’t break in the US until November ’69. When the news broke, I was young, only 10. But I remember seeing the gruesome color photos in the old LIFE and LOOK magazines. In one of those mags, there was a two-page spread (and the pages themselves were LARGE, as those were oversize mags) of the bodies on that dirt road. That photo traumatized me. I’ve never forgotten it. Years later, as a graduate student at the University of Hawaii at Manoa in ’84, I came across one particular book about the massacre. I can’t remember its title, but it was from the University’s Sinclair Library. I came across a photo of a woman who appeared to be gnawing at her “nong”–I’m not sure if that’s the correct spelling, but it’s the conical hat that many Vietnamese women wear. Apparently she had been shot. Her eyes were open, and I saw what appeared to be human intestines (apparently hers) just below the nong. I remember being so upset, I had to sit down. My eyes started watering, and I remember covering my face with my hands. It’s a good thing there wasn’t anyone around at that particular part of the library at the time; I would have been embarrassed.
Recently, I learned the woman’s name: Nguyen Thi Thau. Now I have a name that I can affix in my memory to the woman in the photo. In the photo, she looked to be perhaps in her late 20s or early 30s, but I can’t be sure. Whenever I see that photo, I feel angry and helpless. I’ve had to ask God to heal my emotions when I see the photo. I realize that it’s very unlikely that anyone reading this had known Ms Thi Thau. It by some chance someone does, I would really appreciate if I could learn her religious background. In particular, I’d like to know if anyone knows whether she had accepted Jesus as her Savior. If she did, she’ll be one of the first people I’ll come running to, to embrace, when I get to Heaven.
a moving post and same comments!
Waipahu! i’ve seen the photo you mentioned. May God bless her.
Pursuit of peace is within all of us as individuals; for governments i don’t know.
greetings from Iran
Thank you Farshad for your kind comments. You are right, individuals get along, we have seen that in every country we have visited. It is the governments that get in the way.
Waipahu, I understand your concern about whether or not she had accepted Jesus Christ as her savior. But does it really matter?? Most Vietnamese practice indigenous religions and its likely Ms Thi Thau was, too. And you don’t have to wait to get to ‘heaven’ to embrace her when you can embrace her right here on earth. She is here, in spirit, as I’m sure her death after life has taken her on an enlightened path to peace.
Your report echoes my experiences in Vietnam several years ago — but it still made me cry. The Vietnamese are incredibly resilient and caring. Oh, that we in the United States could realize the evil we exercise in so many places where we take our “power.” Thanks for sharing this.