A Memory I Can’t Forget
The author recreates an experience he had while serving in Vietnam. He was awestruck and helpless at the time. It is something he will never forget.
December 1967 at a bridge south of Phu Bai. We were building a creosote timber bridge to replace one that had been blown up by the VC. It was about 75 yards across the river and the Army Engineers had installed a temporary flotation bridge just below the bridge we were building. The traffic up and down Highway 1 would go down a ramp and slowly cross the bridge.
On top of the bridge where we worked, we were about 15 feet higher than the flotation bridge. About 100 feet upstream from where we worked an old rusty steel bridge still carried trains across the river. A little village was right there on both sides of highway one immediately north of the bridge. It wasn’t very large but approximately 100 villagers lived there. A platoon of South Vietnam Soldiers were also stationed nearby to protect the village and bridge.
I was on top of the bridge nailing decking on a section of the bridge when late in the afternoon, my Squad Leader told me to go into the village and see if I could purchase some cold drinks. I grabbed my web belt and buckled it and picked up my M-16 rifle.
Sometimes we were able to buy cold drinks in the village, they had a drink they claimed was Coca Cola but it didn’t taste much like it. It usually was flat tasting.
I walked into the village I had slung my rifle over my shoulder by the sling. I got to the old lady’s house that sold the cokes and she met me at the entrance. The house was small and had cardboard boxes flattened out and tacked on the outside. The roof was thatched with big leaves and they hung over by about a foot.
She inclined her head to me and then looked up and asked what I needed. I told her cold drinks and she said, “Aaah,“ and turned, disappearing back inside her house. She came back out with a canvas bag filled with cool drinks. I smiled and asked her how much I owed her. She told me and I gave her a 500 piaster note. A big grin split her face before she grabbed the money; her teeth were bright red. I thanked her and turned to leave and headed back to the river.
Suddenly I saw a half dozen Vietnamese soldiers emerge from between two huts. They were dragging a young Vietnamese boy between two of them while the others followed behind. I stood and watched them heading toward the river dragging this boy. He was terrified. Screaming and crying, and tried unsuccessfully to dig his heels in as they continued toward the river, the soldiers were stronger. They were all talking in Vietnamese and I couldn’t understand what they were saying. Curious, I followed closely behind.
As we neared the old railroad bridge the young boy tried to jerk away from his captors. One of them backhanded him savagely and the boy sagged between them. I didn’t like the way this was going. Some of the villagers had also gathered and stood back about twenty feet, most were crying and wringing their hands. One of them screamed at the boy’s captors, who then screamed back, silencing the group.
As I stood off to the side, I set the filled Coke bag down on the ground, slipped my weapon off my shoulder and raised it toward a firing position. One of the Vietnamese soldiers saw me, then quickly raised his own weapon and aimed it at me. He looked at me and shook his head, saying, “No No.“ He then switched his M-1 Carbine from safe to fire and waited to see what I’d do next.
Stunned, I reslung my weapon onto my shoulder and stood there watching in awe. An ARVN soldier brought a rope and tied it around the boy who groaned and began waking up. Two of them yanked him from the ground and carried the boy up onto the railroad bridge. They marched about twenty yards from shore and lowered him over the side, tying the rope so he was suspended just above the water.
He came to again and began crying and screaming, his body moved about frantically in attempts to free himself. The two Soldiers left the bridge and came down to join the others. Without a word, they lined up as a firing squad and prepared to fire at him.
I was now guarded by two of them. One pointed to the boy and said,” VC”. I shook my head in rebuttal and looked down to the ground. Suddenly, one of the soldiers fired and hit the boy in the leg. Seconds later, a multitude of shots followed. The screaming came in spurts and then became silent. I walked away as they reloaded. The ARVN soldiers continued to fire at his extremities until they were gone.
I was sick after watching them execute the young boy. As I neared the creosote bridge, I went behind a stack of boards and threw up, heaving until I could no more. When I looked back up towards the railroad bridge, I saw the body hanging there, only a torso swinging in the wind. The ARVN soldiers walked away celebrating.
For days I was sick over this and kept telling myself there was nothing I could have done to prevent this tragedy. And to this day, I can not get this experience out of my head. Just another day in Vietnam.
This article originally appeared on my Facebook Group page: I-Corps, Viet Nam June 28, 2019. If you are a Nam Vet and served in I-Corps, then consider joining this group.
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