17 tháng 4, 2011

Tờ VIETNAM Magazine ra đời từ năm 1988, mỗi 2 tháng ra một số. Đây là tờ báo duy nhất xuất bản bởi các cựu chiến binh Mỹ đã phục vụ trong cuộc chiến ở Việt Nam để “đi tìm một chìa khoá giải tỏa những bí ẩn của cuộc chiến tranh” đầu tiên mà nước Mỹ đã không toàn thắng. Đa số những bài vở trong VIETNAM do các cựu chiến binh Mỹ đóng góp thường kể lại những kinh nghiệm oai hùng và những nhân vật anh dũng trong các trận chiến ở Việt Nam theo tinh thần câu nói của cựu Bộ trưởng Quốc phòng McNamara với cựu Đại tướng Võ Nguyên Giáp: “Các ông đã thắng cuộc chiến nhưng chúng tôi đã thắng hầu hết các trận chiến”.

Đặc biệt số tháng 4/2011 của tờ VIETNAM có đăng hai bài báo đáng cho người Việt Nam chú ý. Đáng chú ý là vì hai bài nầy kể lại hai câu chuyện trong cao điểm của thời chiến nhưng đã thực chứng được sức mạnh của tình người dù trong hoàn cảnh nào cũng có thể vượt lên trên tất cả để chỉ còn lại người với người. Không quân phục, không vũ khí, không huy chương, không ý thức hệ, không chủ nghĩa, không son, không phấn. Chỉ có người trực diện với người.

Bài thứ nhất ở trang 32 có tựa là “The Night The Viet Cong Stopped the War” (“Đêm Việt Cọng Ngừng Chiến”) của tác giả Bob Worthington, một cựu Đại úy cố vấn cho Tiểu Đoàn 3 của Trung Đoàn 51 Bộ Binh, Quân Lực Việt Nam Cộng Hòa đang đóng tại làng An Hoà phía Nam tỉnh Quảng Ngãi. Ông cũng là một người thích quay phim nên đã kèm theo bài báo những hình ảnh sống động cho câu chuyện khó tin của ông.

Câu chuyện khởi đầu vào một ngày cuối tháng 12 năm 1966, ông được lệnh đi theo Tiểu Đoàn 3 Bộ Binh, mà ông coi là thiện chiến, do Thiếu tá Đoàn T. Vân chỉ huy để thực hiện một loại hành quân gọi là “County Fair” (hỗn hợp quân đội, cảnh sát và dân vận để vừa quét sạch các phần tử Việt Cọng (VC) vừa tuyên truyền cho dân theo chính phủ qua các phương tiện thông tin, văn nghệ, y tế, giáo dục) tại làng Phú Nhuận, cách An Hoà khoảng 3 dặm phía Đông Bắc. Trên đường hành quân vào làng Phú Nhuận đã có chạm trán nhẹ với kết qủa địch chết 2 và phe ta vô sự. Sau khi vào đến trung tâm làng và thiết lập bộ chỉ huy, Thiếu tá Vân ra lệnh rải quân để kiểm soát các ngõ ra vào làng và bắt đầu chương trình dân vận bên cạnh công tác lùng soát các cán bộ VC nằm vùng.

Chiến dịch County Fair
https://www.historynet.com/the-night-the-viet-cong-stopped-the-war.htm

Khi màn đêm buông xuống, VC từ phía ruộng đối diện làng bắt đầu bắn vào làng càng lúc càng kịch liệt đến mức phe ta phải kêu trọng pháo bắn yểm trợ. Trong khi hai bên đang giao tranh thì một ông già xin gặp Thiếu tá Tiểu Đoàn Trưởng để cho biết là ông ta đến từ trong vùng VC đang chiếm đóng trước mặt và ở đó có một bé gái bị thương nặng cần cứu chữa tức thì. Điều bất ngờ là ông ta cho biết nếu quân Mỹ đem trực thăng đến tải thương cho cô bé nầy thì bên VC sẽ ngừng bắn. Thiếu tá Vân hỏi ý kiến Đại úy Worthington. Ông nầy bảo ông già đem đứa bé đến cho y tá Mỹ khám. Ông già biến vào đêm tối rồi trở lại với một người đàn bà trẻ tuổi cầm một giỏ tre. Đại úy Worthington vén cái mền rách trong giỏ thì thấy một bé gái khoảng một tuổi nằm im lặng với hai chân bị đạn phá nát. Phản ứng của người sĩ quan Mỹ là: “Đối diện với họng súng của kẻ thù đang lăm le giết tôi là một chuyện mà tôi đã chuẩn bị. Nhưng đối diện với một đứa bé con mà số mạng bất hạnh của nó là bị sinh ra trong vùng lửa đạn đã làm cho tôi chới với. Tôi nhìn vết thương khủng khiếp của đứa bé và người mẹ đáng thương rồi liên tưởng ngay đến chính vợ tôi và hai đứa con gái nhỏ của tôi.”

Người y tá gỡ bỏ những mãnh đạn và băng bó để cầm máu nhưng cho biết vết thương trong gân và cơ bắp cần được giải phẩu càng sớm càng tốt. Mặc dù tràn đầy nghi ngại, Đại úy Worthington bàn với Thiếu tá Vân là sẽ gọi trực thăng nhưng cần chuẩn bị một bãi đáp an toàn. Kinh nghiệm những lần phản bội lời hứa của VC trong các lần ngưng chiến trước đây cũng không ngăn được nguời Đại úy Mỹ bước ra bãi đáp, một mãnh đất trống giữa làng và vùng VC chiếm đóng, để chờ trực thăng đến. Trong đêm tối, tiếng súng đã tắt hẵn, Đại uý Worthington liên lạc vô tuyến với người phi công trực thăng đang bay đến từ căn cứ. “Tiger 3 … Anh có chắc là VC sẽ không bắn vào máy bay của tôi?” “- “Charlie 7, đó là điều VC đã nói với tôi. Tôi nghĩ là chúng ta chỉ có thể chờ rồi mới biết.”

Rồi trực thăng đến trong tiếng cánh quạt xoành xoạch. Chạm đất. Người mẹ ôm cái giỏ chạy ra. Đại úy Worthington nâng người mẹ lên sàn máy bay. Trực thăng nghiêng mình cất cánh. Tất cả xãy ra trong một phút. Tiếng xoành xoạch xa dần trả lại sự im lặng không một tiếng súng trên bãi đáp đen như mực. Người Đại úy Mỹ bước chầm chậm trở lại bộ chỉ huy trong làng Phú Nhuận, “ông dỡ nón sắt ngưỡng mặt nhìn lên bầu trời, để cho những giọt mưa rơi nhẹ nhàng rửa sạch mồ hôi trên trán, chảy vào mắt rồi tuôn ra trên má.”

Khoảng một giờ sau, tiếng súng lại bắt đầu nổ từ phía ruộng VC chiếm đóng. Nhưng không có gì đáng kể. Ngày hôm sau, Tiểu Đoàn 3 rút chốt khỏi làng Phú Nhuận kéo quân trở về bản doanh ở An Hoà đem theo 23 tình nghi VC. Và cuộc chiến tiếp diễn trong dã man và khốc liệt mà loài người đã quen thuộc.

Sau 15 năm trong quân ngũ, Đại úy Bob Worthington trở về Mỹ ghi tên học lấy bằng Tiến sĩ về Tâm lý học rồi gĩa từ vũ khí năm 1981 với cấp bậc Trung tá.

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Bài thứ hai ở trang 16 có tựa là “Larry Colburn: Why My Lai, Hugh Thompson matter” (Larry Colburn: Vì sao phải quan tâm về vụ Mỹ Lai và Hugh Thompson). Đây là một bài phỏng vấn Larry Colburn nhìn từ một góc độ ít được nói đến. Trong vụ thảm sát Mỹ Lai tháng 3 năm 1968, Colburn là một xạ thủ trên một trực thăng thám báo.của Không đoàn 123 mà Hugh Thompson là phi công. Vụ thảm sát đầu năm 1968 tại làng Mỹ Lai ở phía Nam Quảng Ngãi đã kết thúc với 347 thường dân bị bắn chết (thống kê VNCH là 504 người) do lính của Trung úy William Calley, chỉ huy trưởng Đại Đội 1 (Charlie Company) thuộc Tiểu đoàn 1, Trung Đoàn 20, Lữ Đoàn 11, Sư Đoàn 23 Bộ Binh (Americal Division). Hai năm sau khi vụ nầy bị báo chí phát giác, Trung úy Calley đã bị toà án quân sự xử tù chung thân nhưng chỉ 4 tháng rưỡi sau ông được trả tự do.

Hugh Thompson

Đây là một vết nhơ mà quân đội Mỹ không bao giờ rửa sạch nếu người ta không tìm hiểu toàn bộ câu chuyện để biết được vai trò nhân bản tuyệt vời của phi công Hugh Thompson và 2 chiến hữu Larry Colburn và Glenn Andreotta trên chiếc trực thăng của họ. Như phim Rashomon của Kurosawa, câu chuyện nầy cũng có ba cách nhìn. Và cách nào cũng trung thực. Cách nhìn khủng khiếp thấy những người lính Mỹ tuân lệnh trên, bắn trực xạ vào những thường dân Việt Nam gồm phần lớn là đàn bà và con nít không may mắn sinh sống trong một ngôi làng bị bộ chỉ huy quân đội Mỹ nghi là có VC ẩn nấp. Cách nhìn ghê tởm thấy một hệ thống hành chánh từ Tổng thống Richard Nixon đến Chánh án Reid Kennedy của toà án quân sự tìm cách bao che cho uy tín của nước Mỹ. Và cách nhìn hào hùng thấy có ba người lính Mỹ tìm cách ngăn cản cuộc thảm sát trong tuyệt vọng với tinh thần tôn trọng phẩm giá con người dù đó là một bà nhà quê trong một ngôi làng nhỏ ở xa nước Mỹ văn minh đến nửa vòng cầu.

Dưới đây là bản phỏng dịch và tóm tắt một số câu phỏng vấn Larry Colburn. Bản dịch và tóm tắt được chọn lựa để làm nổi bật bản chất con người trong những hoàn cảnh khốc liệt nhất.

Khi Trung úy William Calley dẫn quân vào làng Mỹ Lai thì anh đang ở đâu?

- Nhiệm vụ là thám báo nên khi đó trực thăng chúng tôi bay ở ngoài bià làng và thấy dân chúng gồm đàn bà, con nít, người già đang đi ra khỏi làng. Tôi nghĩ như vậy là tốt vì họ sẽ ở ngoài vòng nguy hiểm và chúng tôi bay tiếp.

Khi nào thì anh thấy lại những người dân làng nầy?

- Khoảng 15 phút sau, chúng tôi bay trở lại chỗ cũ thì thấy đám dân làng đó nằm trên đất như đã chết hoặc bị thương. Chúng tôi bay thêm thì thấy thêm những nhóm dân khác cũng nằm la liệt như vậy.

Khi nào thì anh hiểu được chuyện gì đang xẩy ra?

- Phi công Hugh Thompson quăng 1 trái lựu đạn khói xuống bên cạnh một người đàn bà bị thương ở ngực để làm dấu cho quân ta đến cứu thương. Nhưng thay vì như vậy thì chúng tôi thấy Đại úy Medina bước đến sát người đàn bà đang nằm. Đá vào người của bà ta rồi đưa súng bắn chết người nầy. Cả ba chúng tôi đều la lên: “Đồ chó đẻ!”

Đó có phải là lúc mà phi công Thompson không còn có thể ngần ngại?

- Đúng là khi chúng tôi thấy khoảng hơn 150 người đứng trong một cái rãnh đối diện với một Trung sĩ. Phi công Thompson hạ trực thăng xuống và chạy đến nói với người Trung sĩ: “Đó là thường dân, hãy giúp họ.” Người Trung sĩ đồng ý và nói: “sẽ giúp họ giải thoát khỏi khốn khổ.” Sau khi khi trực thăng của Thompson bay lên, người Trung sĩ đã bắn vào đám người đó. Chúng tôi bay trở lại và thấy một toán quân đang tiến về một đám thường dân khác đang núp trong một căn hầm. Thompson đáp trực thăng xuống giữa hai nhóm người nầy và nhẩy xuống cố gắng thuyết phục người Trung úy cầm đầu toán lính rằng đây chỉ là những thường dân. Người Trung úy không đồng ý và vẫn tiến về đám thường dân. Thompson chạy trở lại trực thăng và ra lệnh cho Andreotta và tôi: “Tôi sẽ trở lại đó và cố gắng đưa những người dân đó ra khỏi hầm rồi chở họ ra khỏi chỗ nầy. Nếu toán lính bắn vào những người dân hoặc bắn vào tôi thì hai anh hãy bắn vào toán lính!” Thompson đã thực hiện được ý muốn và chúng tôi phải bay 2 lần để chở hơn 10 người dân núp trong hầm đó.

Anh có sẵn sàng để bắn vào các đồng đội của anh?

- Tôi cũng không biết. Và tôi đã suy nghĩ mãi về điều nầy. Nhất là về sau, khi tôi đã biết thêm được những cuộc hãm hiếp dã man … Dù vậy tôi cũng không biết sẽ bắn hay không.

Sau đó, anh có nghĩ là anh có thể làm hơn nữa?

- Chúng tôi trở lại chỗ cái rãnh có hơn 150 người và Andreotta tìm thấy một đứa bé còn nhúc nhích trong đám xác người bất động. Chúng tôi chở đứa nhỏ về nhà thương của căn cứ.

 

 

Trong chuyến trở về Việt-Nam năm 2008, Larry Colburn đứng chụp hình chung với gia đình Đỗ Hoà, đứa bé mà Thượng sĩ Glenn Andreotta kéo ra từ đám người bị bắn chết ở Mỹ Lai và đem về cứu chữa ở nhà thương của căn cứ..

 

 

 

Sau khi trở lại căn cứ, chuyện gì đã xẩy ra?

- Phi công Thompson rất giận dữ, ông nói: “Tôi sẽ không bao giờ bay nữa. Tôi không đến đây để làm những chuyện như vậy. Tôi không dính gì đến những chuyện nầy. Tôi sẽ xé cánh bay và không bao giờ bay nữa.” Rồi anh ta báo cáo với Đại tá Oran Henderson. Đến phiên tôi báo cáo, Thompson nói: “Chỉ cần nói sự thực. Nói đích xác những gì bạn đã thấy.” Tôi trình bày cảnh những thường dân bị giết một cách vô ích. Đại tá Henderson ghi vào sổ tay nhưng không có phản ứng nào cả.

Khi anh trả lời cho ủy ban điều tra của tướng William Peers, anh có nghĩ là ủy ban nầy thực sự muốn đi tìm sự thật?

- Cả Thompson và tôi đều nghĩ là họ chỉ làm lấy lệ.Tôi đã làm nhân chứng tại phiên toà án quân sự xử Henderson, Medina và Calley nhưng kết quả thì thật là đáng hổ thẹn. Tôi không còn một niềm tin gì nữa vào quân đội và muốn vùi chôn tất cả vào quá khứ.

Anh nghĩ sao về sự ủng hộ Calley một cách ào ạt của quần chúng Mỹ?

- Chính tôi cũng không thể tin một sự kiện dã man như vậy đã có thể xẫy ra nếu tôi đã không chứng kiến sự thật đó. Người dân Mỹ cần phải ý thức rằng khi một hành động tàn bạo như vậy đã xẫy ra rồi lại bị chính quyền che dấu thì nó đã hạ phẩm giá tất cả chúng ta.

Anh nghĩ gì về lời “xin lỗi” của Calley?

- Tôi không nghĩ đó là một lời xin lỗi thành thật. Anh ta chỉ muốn được yên ổn với Chúa. Điều đáng kể là mỗi lần tôi về Việt Nam người ta lại hỏi tôi: “Vì sao những người phạm tội giết người đó không trở lại đây xin lỗi để chúng tôi có thể tha thứ cho họ?”. Anh biết là họ theo đạo Phật, họ muốn tha thứ và nhìn về tương lai.

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Đọc xong bài phỏng vấn nầy tôi hy vọng nhà cầm quyền CS ở Việt Nam cũng sẽ đọc và sẽ thấy được Đế quốc Mỹ cũng có những người lính yêu chuộng hoà bình đầy nhân tính như phi công Hugh Thompson. Rồi từ đó sẽ đặt tên Hugh Thompson cho một con đường trong mỗi thành phố lớn của Việt Nam để đánh dấu và đề cao lương tri và tình người dù trong cảnh chiến tranh. Đọc xong những bài báo như vầy và nghĩ đến khoảng thời gian từ vụ Mỹ Lai năm 1968 cho đến vụ Abu Ghraib năm 2004 rồi phân vân không biết nước Mỹ không thay đổi hay là trong chiến tranh thì lương tri con người, dù sống trong một nước tôn trọng tự do, dân chủ, nhân quyền, cũng bị tàn phá đến mức lòng nhân đạo của Đại úy Worthington, của phi công Hugh Thompson không còn được coi như là những hành động bình thường mà trở thành những trường hợp ngoại lệ? Có người nói chiến tranh là một điều xấu cần thiết (un mal necessaire) như vậy những người cần điều xấu có phải là những người không tốt? Và ai là người muốn cho chính mình và con cháu mình trở thành người không tốt?

Để trả lời cho những câu hỏi nầy, có lẻ phải nghêu ngao như một người bạn đã ra đi cách đây đúng 10 năm:

Lại gần đi anh, Lại gần đi em, Lại gần nhau thêm

Không còn gì, Không còn gì, Còn lại trái tim.

 

Đỗ Văn A

"The goal we here at Vietnam magazine have set for ourselves
is to find the key to unlock the enigma of Vietnam."

–Col. Harry G. Summers Jr., 1988, Founding Editor of VIETNAM magazine

https://www.historynet.com/the-night-the-viet-cong-stopped-the-war.htm

VIETNAM Magazine – April 2011

 

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The Night the Viet Cong Stopped the War

By Bob Worthington

The evening's entertainment had come to an end. Muted lights from candles and oil lamps twinkled inside the grass huts, struggling to pierce the murky dark and rain that enshrouded the rural village whose residents were preparing for a night's sleep. It was two days before Christmas 1966, and I was an adviser on a "county fair" operation, designed to improve relations between South Vietnamese villagers and the South Vietnamese government. The Army of the Republic of Vietnam (ARVN) infantry had established their positions to defend the village against a night attack and radio watches were set up in the battalion headquarters as quiet reigned. Then, as it had on so many nights before, the war began again. On this night, however, the combatants would experience a shared humanity in the face of killing and find some hope that, for the right reasons, a war, or at least a battle, really could be stopped.

During November and December 1966, the 3rd Battalion of the 51st ARVN Regiment was based at An Hoa, in Quang Nam Province in central I Corps, conducting numerous company-sized search and destroy counter-guerrilla operations. Typically, these were two-day missions, targeting one of the many small hamlets north of An Hoa village in the fertile valley along the Thu Bon River, about 20 miles southwest of Da Nang. As senior adviser to this Vietnamese infantry unit, I served primarily as a liaison with U.S. forces, the Marines and Air Force, which provided artillery and air support during our combat operations and medevac missions when able.

I was a 29-year-old career Army Infantry officer, a graduate of the U.S. Army Special Warfare School in unconventional warfare and counterinsurgency operations and a graduate of the Defense Language Institute.I was also a former U.S. Marine NCO and a veteran of a short combat tour in the Middle East in 1958. Arriving in Vietnam in January1966, I initially served as the deputy senior adviser to the ARVN combat units responsible for the security ofDa Nang. In June I was transferred to become the senior battalion adviser to the 3rd Battalion of the 51st ARVN Infantry Regiment.

The 3rd Battalion was a light infantry mobile reaction force maneuvering throughout the southern part of Quang Nam Province in areas where the Viet Cong or North Vietnamese Army (NVA) were threatening. The 3rd Battalion was combat hardened. In mid-October, along with a sister battalion, we had been in an intense nine-day operation against a North Vietnamese regiment that had been especially recruited from a coal mining area on the China border. Its mission was to destroy the only operating coal mine in South Vietnam, which was on the Thu Bon River almost halfway between the South China Sea and the Laos border. Our 350-man battalion suffered 53 dead and 127 wounded. The NVA had not fared as well; their 1,200-man unit had 577 killed and about 600 wounded.

A few days before Christmas, the battalion commander, Major Doan T. Van, and the district chief planned a "county fair" operation for the small village of Phu Nhuan, about three miles northeast of An Hoa, which had become a regular Viet Cong stronghold. The district chief told Van that he had information on the identity of some VC leaders and members living in the village, and he wanted the battalion to escort his policemen there so they could locate and arrest them. By conducting a county fair operation, the battalion could enter the village and, under the auspices of providing humanitarian aid, screen its 150 residents.

Once the village was secured, the Government of Vietnam (GVN) officials, U.S. Naval medical personnel from the area Military Public Health Assistance Project medical clinic in the province capital of Hoi An and a Marine Civic Action team would arrive with their vehicles and equipment. The public health program was a joint U.S. military and GVN concept to create or expand public medical facilities throughout South Vietnam. While the U.S. military and GVN civilian personnel did their jobs within Phu Nhuan, the 3rd Battalion would set about searching the village and homes for weapons and munitions caches, tunnels or other evidence of the Viet Cong using the village. At the same time, the civilian police would screen all the villagers, and Viet Cong suspects would be segregated and detained.

It was typical winter monsoon weather, cold and rainy, when the operation kicked off on December 23. At daybreak, we left An Hoa and for the next two hours slogged through ankle-deep mud, first along old railroad tracks and then a dirt road. Just a few steps, lifting one's feet out of the gooey muck, rapidly drained a walker's energy reserves and slowed forward progress to a crawl.

Encountering no resistance on the way, the battalion reached the village by midmorning and split in half to surround it. One company went to the left, cutting the village off from the Thu Bon River. The other company moved to the right, forming a line separating the village from its rice fields. As the second company moved into position, a smattering of rifle shots rang out, quickly followed by a volley from several automatic weapons.

Major Van called for his radioman to contact 2nd Company to find out what was happening. Just then, more rifle shots rattled, again followed by automatic weapons.

The 2nd Company reported that as its troops came into the open rice fields, they had seen several farmers working on the far side and had yelled for the men to come over to the company. When the farmers realized they were being approached by armed soldiers, they dropped their digging tools, picked up their hidden bolt-action repeating rifles and began firing on the advancing squad. The soldiers returned fire with .45-caliber Thompson submachine guns and .30-caliber M1 carbines. Three of the farmers dropped their rifles and raised their arms. The other two ran away, turning to fire again at the soldiers. The ARVN fired back, killing both farmers.

With the firing ceased, we had the village secured in about 40 minutes. No one could enter or exit without us knowing it. The battalion staff picked a large grass hut built on a concrete foundation—the only house that didn't have a dirt floor—for its command post (CP). Inside, tables were cleared off, and soldiers arranged radios and paperwork. Then Major Van, myself, some of his staff and our radiomen began walking around the village. It was one of the poorest places I had seen in Vietnam. Most of the grass huts had only the barest furniture with few personal possessions. The villagers looked emaciated and weak. Few of the small children wore a complete set of clothing. Many were covered with threadbare rags stitched together, usually just a tattered shirt with no bottoms, eliminating the need for diapers.

Older children and adults, regardless of sex, dressed alike in black, lightweight cotton trousers worn with collarless shirts in a variety of colors. Some men wore shorts, like boxer-style underwear. Most had their heads covered with tightly woven, conical shaped straw hats, which provided a degree of protection from rain or sun. For raincoats, most adults wrapped pieces of clear plastic around themselves.

We chose another hut for the police screening and interrogation facility, where the villagers would be identified and processed. The bodies of the two dead farmers were stretched out in front of this hut, and the three captured farmers were tied to chairs and questioned by the battalion intelligence sergeants.

About noon, the rest of the county fair crew,consisting of about a dozen Vietnamese civilians that included some district and province officials, entertainers and a number of national policemen, pulled into Phu Nhuan in four-wheel-drive, three-quarter-ton trucks. The ARVN set up portable generators and strung electric wire throughout the central part of the village to loudspeakers mounted on poles. Posters proclaiming the benevolence of the government were tacked up. A large open hut was converted into a dispensary, where the medics would inoculate the small children first. Then they would treat the ever-present scalp infections most children had, and the upper respiratory tract ailments common in adults.

We soon realized that even the smaller children in the village understood death and disease. When they went through the inoculation line, not a single child winced or cried when getting an injection. The older kids even wanted more than one inoculation. By their reasoning, if one shot was good, two would be better, and three would be great. They would get their shots and then race to the end of the line for another. Through an interpreter, we tried to convince the kids that one shot was all they needed.

While we screened patients, dispensed medication, distributed clothing and food and even passed out propaganda comic books, the civilian police worked to find the suspected Viet Cong they were looking for, as well as searching for weapons and tunnels.

As the rainy day wore on, the giveaway operations were interspersed with political speeches meant to convert the villagers over to the side of the government. We were held up as an example of the government's good intentions toward its citizens. The problem, though, was that the government representatives only occasionally visited these people.

On the other hand, the Viet Cong continually coexisted with the villagers, and thus their influence was much greater. Nevertheless, the peasants gave the government officials all the appropriate responses—bowing and murmuring approval when approached—but I knew as soon as we left, that same politeness would be accorded the local VC leaders.

As darkness descended on Phu Nhuan and the generators came to life, their muffled "putt-putt-putt" gave light to the entertainment phase of our county fair, which included singers and dancers performing government propaganda shows for the villagers.

Since the initial firefight that greeted us in the morning, the enemy had been quiet. However, just as the activities were winding down for the night, shots rang out from the side of the village facing the rice fields. A short firefight erupted, then faded away as some VC probed our lines around the village.

Thirty minutes later, more shots were fired. This time our Marine liaison team called in artillery fire on the tree line where the shots had come from. The shells crashed in, and the shooting stopped. But shortly after, the action heated up as more incoming rounds came pouring in from a different direction.

About this time, an old Vietnamese man who had somehow found his way through our defensive perimeter began pleading with some of the troopers. He wanted to talk to the battalion commander, saying that he lived outside the village in the area where the Viet Cong were shooting from.

he troopers escorted the old man to Major Van, and since I spoke Vietnamese fluently, I sidled up and listened closely. He excitedly explained that during the firefight, a small baby girl had had both of her feet badly shot up and was in desperate need of immediate medical treatment.

Incredibly, he told Van that if the American advisers could radio for a helicopter to take the baby to a hospital, the Viet Cong would agree not to shoot at it.

Major Van turned to me and asked, "Do you understand what this man wants?"

"Yes," I replied, "it sounds like the VC would stop the shooting if we could medevac the baby out of here."

Concerned that this was some sort of a trick to lure an American helicopter into a trap, we asked that the mother and baby be brought to us so that our medics could examine the baby to determine if immediate medical care was required. Finally, after prolonged inquiries back and forth, the man agreed to bring the baby and its mother to us.

After he left, I instructed the Marine liaison team to relay the information to its higher headquarters and tell them that we didn't know enough yet to make an official request for a helicopter. They said they would see what they could do.

About 45 minutes later, around 8 p.m., the old man arrived back at our CP, accompanied by a young woman carrying a basket with something wrapped up inside. Moving aside the cloth, I saw a small baby girl, about a year old. Both of her tiny feet had been torn up by shrapnel. The young mother was visibly distressed about her child, but she readily relinquished her to the American medics, knowing these men could help take care of her baby.

Facing a man across a gun barrel who is trying to kill you is one thing. But facing a small child whose only contribution to her condition was the fact that she was born here, really got to me. As I looked at the baby's dreadful wounds and then at the mother, I couldn't help but think of my own wife and our two young daughters.

The medics examined the child and removed most of the shrapnel fragments and stopped the bleeding in her feet. But, they told me, the damage to the muscle and tendons required immediate surgery. Without it, she would probably never walk. I vowed to get the helicopter in that night.

I told the Marines to make an official request for a medevac immediately and explained to Major Van that we would have to set up a landing zone for the helicopter and position a couple of squads to secure it.

I asked the old man and the child's mother how we could trust that the Viet Cong wouldn't shoot down the medevac. They both promised that no one would shoot if a helicopter came. I told the old man to go back and tell the Viet Cong that I had requested a medevac for the baby and her mother.

One of the Marines using the radio called me over. "The pilots want to know," he asked, "how we can guarantee the Viet Cong won't shoot at them when they come in,"

"I can't guarantee anything," I replied, "except that I will personally be out there on the LZ to guide the medevac in. I don't believe we'll have any trouble."

The pilots answered that they "would see what could be done."

While I awaited a response on the medevac, I went out to check the landing zone, a small open area next to the village. I didn't venture beyond our defensive perimeter, but looked out through the trees into the misty rain.

It appeared that the enemy sniping had stopped, and the ARVN soldiers had the landing area adequately protected. I checked and rechecked the LZ position against the map. There was no wind, so the helicopter could land from virtually any direction.

Thirty minutes later, back at the CP, I heard over the radio that the medevac was on its way and expected to arrive in about 25 minutes. I gave the Marine radioman the coordinates of the landing zone to give to the medevac. Grabbing my web gear and pistol, flak jacket, helmet and flashlight, I prepared to move out to the LZ and wait.

I told Major Van to have his soldiers bring the woman and her child to the landing zone when the helicopter arrived. As soon as the chopper landed, I wanted her on board immediately.

We would have to move fast; we didn't want the helicopter to linger on the ground where it would be a sitting duck if the operation went south. I explained my plan to the Navy medics, who were still in the battalion command post.

As soon as the medics heard the chopper inbound, they were to get the baby ready to go and give it to the ARVN soldiers, who would escort the mother to the chopper.

I picked up my PRC-10 radio and went out to the LZ. Squatting in the bushes next to the squad leader, we strained to hear the noise of the incoming medevac. Before long I heard the Marine radioman back in our CP talking to the chopper pilot.

Approaching from the northeast, they were about five minutes out.

"Tiger 3. This is Charlie Seven-seven. Over," the pilot called.

Charlie Seven-seven, this is Tiger 3," I whispered. "As soon as I see you, I'll guide you to our Lima Zulu. Over."

"Tiger 3," the pilot replied. "We should be there in zero two. Are you sure the Victor Charlie won't shoot at us? Over."

"Charlie Seven-seven. That's what they tell us," I said. "Guess you and I will just have to wait and see."

While I had faith that the Viet Cong wanted to save the baby and would not shoot at us, I still held my breath, ready to react immediately if something went wrong.

A minute later, I detected the muted "whup-whup" of the chopper, forced by the rain and clouds to fly low. The squad leader tapped me on the shoulder and pointed to the chopper.

"Charlie Seven-seven. I have you in sight," I radioed.

"Roger, Tiger 3. Which is the best way to land?"

"There's no wind," I said. "Turn around and come in from the south. You'll parallel the trees on the edge of the village."

I told the squad leader to have his men stay sharp, be alert and "watch the rice fields, not the chopper." I moved to the center of the small clearing, instinctively crouching down low to the ground for fear of being shot. The next few seconds seemed like hours as I stood out in the open, an easy target waiting for the helicopter to maneuver around for the landing.

As I slowly moved my flashlight in a small arc, I started talking the chopper down, giving the pilots directions left and right as well as calling their height above the ground. The chopper moved over the tree line next to the village, hovering beside me. Both the pilots and I were well versed in doing this, so together we brought the helicopter to a smooth and easy landing.

Like clockwork, as soon as the skids hit the ground, the squad leader ran over with the mother and child and handed the basket with its precious cargo to the crew chief. I hoisted the mother into the chopper, and the crew chief buckled her in. I raced to the side and radioed to the pilot: "Charlie Seven-seven. Rotate to your left and lift off to the south."

The large, dark Huey rose waist high, pivoting around. Building to full power, the Lycoming gas turbine engine whined as the big bird nosed over, tail up, and began its forward movement. Skids almost touching the ground, it picked up speed and altitude, simultaneously.

Climbing, it banked over the village and struck a northeasterly course back to Da Nang and to a hospital where I hoped the baby's feet could be saved. The whole operation had taken less than a minute and not one shot had been fired.

Calling the squad back in, we returned to the village. Grateful that the enemy had kept their word, I took off my helmet, raised my face to the sky and let the soft rain wash away the sweat that was running off my forehead, into my eyes and down my cheeks.

With that mission accomplished, Major Van and I began planning the next morning's foot movement out of the village, back to our base camp. In about an hour, the enemy resumed firing into the village from across the rice fields, but through the rest of the night it was more of a nuisance than a serious problem.

The next day, we closed our county fair. We had apprehended 23 Viet Cong suspects. Most were middle-aged males, but there were also some young females in the group. Pretending to be innocent peasant girls visiting relatives, they could move freely about, carrying messages or documents for the Viet Cong. Even under detention, the women that we captured on this operation seemed far removed from the battle zone as they coyly flirted with the South Vietnamese soldiers.

Returning home was a slow, muddy walk—a repeat of the previous day, except this time we had our prisoners, arms tied behind their backs and roped together in a chain. They would be interrogated again at district headquarters before being sent to the province capital at Hoi An for more processing.

At the end of our two-hour trek, we could look forward to relaxing and enjoying a quiet Christmas Eve and then the next day, a Christmas cease-fire.

We celebrated Christmas in our bunker, but kept our radios on to monitor the advisory net and the local Marine nets. About midmorning, a Marine rifle company reported standing down in position in the boonies, not far from our camp, waiting out the cease-fire. A short while later, the company suddenly came under attack, and we listened helplessly as its commander repeatedly requested artillery fire on the attackers, only to be denied because of the mutually agreed-upon holiday truce. Eventually, after the enemy had fired more than 1,000 rifle shots and more than 20 mortar rounds on the company, artillery support was finally approved and the war continued in earnest, cease-fire be damned.

In an Associated Press story, it was reported that this attack was not considered a "major cease-fire violation," even though several U.S. Marines were killed and wounded.

Such are the vagaries of war, when on one day the enemy may decide to violate a cease-fire to gain a tactical advantage and kill an unsuspecting foe, while on another day they will keep their word and stop the war, if just for awhile, to save a wounded child.

After 15 years serving in the infantry and special operations, Bob Worthington earned a Ph.D. in psychology from the University of Utah and became U.S. Army psychology consultant for the Army's Health Services Command. He retired in 1981 as a lieutenant colonel.

 

https://www.historynet.com/interview-larry-colburn-why-my-lai-hugh-thompson-matter.htm

VIETNAM Magazine – April 2011

 

INTERVIEW LARRY COLBURN

– WHY MY LAI HUGH THOMPSON MATTER

When atrocities like the My Lai massacre are committed and covered up, it degrades us all.

 

Larry Colburn was a door gunner with crew chief Glenn Andreotta and Warrant Officer Hugh Thompson as pilot of a small scout helicopter during a combat assault at the village of My Lai on March 16, 1968. As murderous bloodlust unfolded on the ground below, Thompson and crew confronted fellow GIs to save numerous civilians from the fate of some 500 others that morning. Andreotta died in action a few weeks later, but Thompson and Colburn were key witnesses in the investigations and trials to follow. In this exclusive interview with Vietnam magazine and VietMag.com, Larry Colburn talks about his late friend Hugh Thompson, the My Lai massacre, the subsequent cover up, investigations and trials, his journeys back to Vietnam and meetings with survivors and the Hugh Thompson Foundation, which he formed after Thompson's death in 2006.

 

How did you get to the 123rd Aviation Battalion?
When I got to Vietnam I was attached to a headquarters company. Friends I had on the division level told me they were taking volunteers for the 123rd Aviation Battalion. The alternative was to be in an infantry unit, and I was told it would be a good idea to attach to an aviation company, better odds there. I would be there from December '67 to December '68.

You started out on an OH-23 scout helicopter?
When I first joined the company, the commander took the volunteers to the flight line and showed us bullet holes in the aircraft and asked us if we knew what they were. He wanted to give us some idea of what were getting into. You felt pretty vulnerable in that little helicopter. Our main job was to fly close to the deck, entice fire to get the enemy to give up their position, mark it, suppress fire and get out of the gunships' way. Like most 18-year-old males I was naïve, had no idea what risks were. As I understand, that part of brain doesn't develop until 25.

On March 16, 1968, did you have any expectations of serious action?
The pilots were briefed, if the crew was briefed it was by the pilot in the aircraft on the way to the area. That morning, Hugh said, "This is supposed to be a VC stronghold, but you know G2." Usually, when intelligence said an area was hot, it wasn't, and visa versa. Hugh was being jovial. With Hugh, usually the more tense the situation, the more comical he would be.

Did you have any knowledge of who was being inserted into My Lai that morning?
No, we had no knowledge of who they were, we just knew they were Americans on the ground and we would have done anything for them. We would have died for them. We were very protective of the men on the ground.

What did you see when first flying over My Lai?
We came in from altitude down to low level. That morning was clear and as we came over a hilltop we saw a suspect in uniform with a pack, carrying a carbine in the middle of a rice paddy. He looked up and saw us and then took off for the tree line. Hugh said, "I'm going to take him on the right," which meant he was my target. I may have clipped him but he made it to the trees. That was the only enemy combatant we saw that day.

By this time, Lt. William Calley's Charlie Company was reaching My Lai?
Yes, and we were checking the perimeter as they were coming in and starting the combat assault. As we got back on station, we saw a lot of villagers leaving and figured that we may have dropped leaflets or had fired some artillery in morning. Then again, it was a Saturday morning and they were possibly going to market. It was women, children and elders we saw. They were not running, but just slowly moving out of the village. We thought that was good, that they would be out of the way. So we continued our recon.

When did you see those particular villagers again?
In about 10-15 minutes we were back to the same spot where we saw the villagers on the road leaving. Now we saw them again, but they were all lying on the road, dead or dying. We knew something seemed wrong. These people appeared to be no threat at all, and we couldn't figure out why they were fired on and killed as they were leaving the area.

Were you talking about this at the time?
Hugh was running scenarios through his head to figure it out. They couldn't have been killed by artillery. It couldn't be gunships, they weren't firing on people. Hugh alerted the low gunship as to what we had seen on the ground. The only radio communication we had was with the low gunship. They could communicate with the command craft that was flying at altitude. As we flew around more, we started seeing small groups of people dead or dying in other parts of the village.

You had no radio contact with the men on the ground?
We had no direct radio contact with the men on the ground. We were the closest and should have been able to communicate, but that's the way it was structured. If we would have had direct contact, we could have told them that these people are unarmed, no threat. Possibly we could have stopped things earlier.

You still didn't understand what was actually happening?
No. We even started marking the wounded with smoke, thinking the men on ground would come assist them. When we would come back to those we marked, we'd find they were now dead. We came to think we were indirectly killing these people ourselves by marking them with smoke. We couldn't come up with an explanation until Hugh marked a woman we saw who had a chest wound and decided to just move back in a hover when we saw a squad coming near. As we watched from about 15 feet off the ground, back maybe 20 meters, we saw this captain approach the woman, look down at her, kick her, step back and then blow her away. It all crystallized in that moment. In unison, all three of us shouted, "You son of a bitch!" That was Captain Ernest Medina.

That was a point of no return for Thompson?
When Hugh realized it was our people doing this killing, he knew he had to take drastic measures. We came across a ditch, with probably 150 or more people in it and the wounded trying to crawl out. There was a sergeant standing by the ditch by himself. Hugh landed and ran over and told the sergeant, "These are civilians, we got to help them out." The sergeant agreed, telling Hugh he'd help them—"out of their misery." Hugh continued to argue, said they were no threat, they had no weapons. Finally, when the sergeant said OK, Hugh thought he'd convinced him and got back in the helicopter and we pulled out. As we did, we heard automatic weapon fire. Glenn shouted, "He's firing into the ditch again!"

How did Hugh react when reason failed?
Hugh was furious, ready to do anything to save these innocent people. Just then Glenn spotted some people in an earthen bunker, saw faces peering out of the entry. We surveyed around the bunker and saw that squad approaching. Hugh said: "These people are going to die. I'm not going to let this happen, we've got to do something. Are you guys with me?"

Any hesitation?
None. Glenn said, "If we are going to do something, we better do it right now!" So Hugh lands right between the approaching squad and the bunker. He left the aircraft in flight idle, as rotor blades can be somewhat intimidating. He also wanted to be able to get out quickly if need be. As Hugh jumped out, he told us to take our weapons down off the bungee cords and take some belted ammo and backup weapons and set up a little perimeter around the aircraft. He walked about 50 meters and encountered the lieutenant who was leading the squad. He tried to explain that these people appeared to be civilians, that we hadn't taken any fire and there was no evidence of combatants in that area. The lieutenant told him to mind his own business and get out of the way. They were face to face, screaming at each other. Hugh came back to the aircraft and because we had flight helmets on and the aircraft was running, we had to literally put our heads together as Hugh shouted instructions. He said: "They are coming this way. I'm going to go over to the bunker myself and get these people out. If they fire on these people, or fire on me while I'm doing that, shoot 'em!" Now Hugh really had no idea who or what was in that bunker, could have been an AK47 waiting for him there. But he didn't even draw a sidearm as he walked up to the bunker and motioned to the people to come out. Somehow they trusted him and they came out. He kept the aircraft and himself in between these people and the squad. We had thought there were two or three, but there were about 10 in the bunker. At that point, Hugh realizes he's got an aircraft that won't accommodate them. So he called our low gunship, piloted by a friend of his, Dan Millans, and said: "Danny, I need a favor. I want you to come down here and shuttle these people out of here." And that's what happened, but at that he had to make two trips. The high gun stayed in the air and circled.

Did the gunship crews know what was happening on the ground before this?
The low gun probably did because they had visual and were communicating with Hugh, and Hugh had been telling them what we'd been seeing, hoping they were relating that up to the command craft that was flying above at altitude.

How many men were in squad and were they threatening?
There were probably 10 in the squad. They approached but because the aircraft was at flight idle they tended to stay back a little. I know it's great copy, but I've tried to correct the record many times: No one pointed any weapons at anybody. When Hugh gave his order, I distinctly remember pointing my weapon directly down at the ground, so there was no question. Glenn and I were staring them down and watching to see how it would unfold. I remember catching one of the soldiers' eyes and I waved to him and he waved back. I thought Hugh would pull it off, when I saw some pull their rucksacks off and leave it to the lieutenant to have it out with Hugh. Remember, this was later in the morning approaching noon, most of the killing had already been done.

Were you prepared to fire on the squad?
How could I ever be prepared for something like that? Would I have? I guess that's the $64,000 question isn't it? I've mulled this over for years. I don't know, at the time I thought about creating a diversion, discharging my weapon in another direction. But I really didn't know what was going to happen or how to react. Now, if I had known then what I know now about some of the activity going on there, the rapes and barbarism…. But still, who do you shoot? I don't know who did what. I'm not judge, jury and executioner. I just thank God everybody kept their cool and no one made any quick moves.

Could you have just reported this and left, knowing you'd at least made an effort?
No, because the commander was on a different frequency. Hugh transmitted what he could to the low gun in hopes that it would get up to the commander and someone would make a decision to stop it. At some point they finally did call for a cease-fire, but by then it was too late.

After evacuating the people, you thought you could do more?
We went back to the ditch because we knew there were a lot of people there who could have been saved. Glenn had a visual on some sort of movement in the ditch, so Hugh landed, and Glenn and I got out. Glenn went down into the ditch and found the boy that he had seen moving and handed him up to me. We took him out of the area to a hospital and gave him to a nun. Hugh told her he probably didn't have any family left.

Did you consider bringing gunships to ferry out others from the ditch?
Except for the boy, it appeared the rest were already dead.

You found later that that wasn't true?
As the wounded tried to crawl out, they were fired on by someone who had been left there to do just that. However, I've spoken to survivors on different occasions who had been at the bottom of the pile. They waited until the sun went down and they crawled out of that ditch.

When did you make your report of what happened?
After we took the boy to Quang Nai, we went back to our base, and Hugh Thompson and I reported to Colonel Oran Henderson.

Do you think most people realize there was more than just the killing that was going on?
Probably not. In the Peers inquiry testimony, I believe there were 14 rapes that were reported. There was also testimony of absolute insanity. They killed everything. Some soldiers even jumped on the water buffalos, riding them around while trying to kill them with their bayonets. It was a case of bloodlust.

Had you ever seen anything even approaching this before?
It was an enemy tactic to blur the lines between combatants and noncombatants. I'd seen civilians get in the way and unfortunately lose their lives because of that. But to see people herded up like so many animals, marched into a ditch and machine-gunned? No I'd never seen nor heard of anything like that before, except in World War II. Hugh told me that was what was going through his mind, he was thinking of Nazi Germany, people digging trenches, forced to march into those trenches, mass graves.

Thompson had a famous emotional outburst upon returning to base?
I think he broke his flight helmet, he threw it down so hard. He was saying: "I'll never fly again. This is not what I'm here for. This is not how this military organization supposed to conduct operations. I'll have no part of this, I'll tear these wings off and never fly again!" Fortunately, people calmed him down before he reported to Colonel Henderson. He didn't want to appear to be frantic; he wanted to be taken seriously by Henderson.

Thompson wanted you to also make a report?
When Hugh asked me to come with him and report what had happened, he said: "Just tell the truth. Exactly what you saw." Since we were sitting shoulder to shoulder, we saw virtually the very same things. I walked in and told Henderson we saw unnecessary killing of many civilians. He made some notes on a legal pad and excused me and I left. He showed no reaction at all.

Did you expect something would be done as a result?
Yes. It was in their hands. And the people guilty of committing war crimes should have been dealt with. At the same time, judging from Henderson's reaction—he seemed almost nonchalant, like it was just another day at the office. That same day, the cover up started.

Months later you were surprised with a medal for action at My Lai?
Out of the blue, our unit was called out onto the tarmac for an awards and decoration ceremony. I had no idea what it was about. I thought someone else was getting recognition for something. It was unusual, the only time it happened while I was there. All of a sudden I hear my name called, I had no advance knowledge, no idea what was happening until they pinned the Bronze Star with Valor on me. I read the citation and thought what? "In the middle of a firefight…" I was an E4, what was I to do? I said, "Thank you, sir," and went back to work. I didn't write Hugh up for anything and he said he didn't write me up. We didn't know what was happening. I believe Glenn got a Bronze Star too.

Was this part of the cover up?
It had to be. The conclusion Hugh and I came to was they were trying to keep us quiet by giving us a phony award. But that was not to be the case.

When did you start talking to investigators?
I was back at Ft. Hood and my CO called me in, said I had a phone call. It was Hugh and he told me that I would be getting orders to report to Washington. He told me not to say anything to anybody, and just tell the truth when I got there. When the orders came down, the CO called me into his office and demanded to know what they were for. I looked at them and the first thing I saw was, "Reason: to conduct necessary military business." So that's all I would tell the CO. He started accusing me of being with CID. He said you're a plant aren't you. I said I'm not really at liberty to say. I enjoyed that.

At that point, no one had a clue beside you and Hugh?
No. Hugh told me to keep my mouth shut and I did. We didn't talk about it. There was some chatter since most of the people at Ft. Hood were returnees, but no one really zeroed in on what was happening.

Did the word about what happened at My Lai get around?
Those on station knew something about it but not many saw it up close and personal except for the men on the ground and a couple of helicopter crews. We didn't talk too much about it ourselves because we reported on it and we were, frankly, preoccupied with the next mission. Of course anyone thinking of making a career in the military probably pretended they never heard anything.

Did you experience retaliation for what you did that day, or for talking to Henderson?
No, but Hugh was sent on missions in his OH-23 with his back up another OH-23—no gunships—into Dragon Valley, where there was rocket activity. That seemed suicidal to me, going out with next to no backup or firepower. That's when he crashed about five helicopters in five months. I did hear that the men on the ground were told to pretend like it never happened. Some were sent out into the field for 60-75 days straight, and they started getting the feeling somebody was trying to get rid of them.

After My Lai, did you feel traumatized or feel like you carried a huge burden?
At first, I just felt shock. To this day I can't remember exactly about that day reporting to Henderson. I remember wearing the same fatigues and they were pretty much covered with blood stains from carrying the boy and being in that ditch. I think I may have been in shock to some extent. After the initial shock, I think some sort of a defensive mechanism kicked in.

What did you do after My Lai for the rest of your tour?
I wanted to survive and get home. I flew in the 23 as a gunner through that summer, then I asked about throwing my hat into ring for a gunship where there was a little more armor and security. I stayed on gunships for rest of my time in Vietnam.

Did you have a sense that what you had seen at My Lai was and isolated incident or did you suspect similar atrocities were happening elsewhere?
When you see something like that happen, with no negative repercussions, you begin to think perhaps this is the method of operation. I think Task Force Barker's intent was to create panic and drive the enemy forces out of the area. There could be a reason for doing it, or there could have simply been a complete breakdown in leadership. When the officers take part in it, it just escalates things. When you see your lieutenant or captain initiate these things, some enlisted men on the ground are more likely to do the same thing. But remember, at My Lai only about a third of the men participated in the massacre, but no one else tried to stop it.

Glenn Andreotta was killed just a few weeks after My Lai?
Yes. I was on the backup team that day and we went out to try to retrieve the bodies. Glenn took a .51-caliber in the head, he was dead before he hit the ground.

When you testified in Washington for the Army investigation led by General William Peers, did you feel they were after the real story?
I flew from Ft. Hood to give testimony in the basement war room of the Pentagon. I knew General Peers had gotten in touch with Hugh and took him back over to the scene of the crime. Hugh was the general's personal pilot. It was fresh enough that things hadn't changed much. He was very helpful to General Peers and it seemed like he wasn't just going through the motions, it was like he really wanted to know what happened. I felt that my testimony validated Hugh's, and that was why it was important.

So you were encouraged at that point?
I was encouraged in that there was an investigation going on and they were going after some people in a big way. I was hoping there would be justice, but what did it achieve? Everybody walked. All of the investigations led to nothing, Hugh and I felt like all three trials were just window dressing. Nobody would be held responsible.

Before the story broke, did you or Hugh consider going public with the story?
No. Particularly because of the Peers and the IG investigations, I thought there were people sincere about upholding the Uniform Code of Military Justice.

Did you know when the story was about to break?
I was back in Mount Vernon, outside Washington, and I got a call from my mother saying there were some people at the house who wanted to talk to me. She asked me what it was about, and I said I wasn't sure. I got there and I'll never forget my mother taking me into the kitchen and telling me if I didn't want to tell these people anything, I didn't have to. I don't know how they found me, but I gave a brief interview, and it appeared with the Life magazine photo spread in December 1969.

How did you feel about that?
I always thought the American people deserved to know what was going on and I just thought it was good the public got a color photo layout of what happened at My Lai.

You were a witness for the prosecution in the trials that followed?
By then I was a civilian and was trying to attend college on the GI Bill, but I kept getting subpoenas. I testified in the trials of Henderson, Medina and Calley. When they started convicting people, I thought, now this is how it should unfold. But, after going through the process and seeing the ultimate outcome, I wasn't really surprised, but I was disillusioned. The outcome of the trails was disgraceful, and Hugh and I saw that it was a sham. We'd done what we could. I lost faith in the whole military organization and wanted to put it all behind me.

You and Hugh had a pretty low profile during and after the trials?
We were told by the prosecuting attorneys to keep our mouths shut, and I didn't advertise the fact I was at My Lai.

How did you and Hugh reconcile what you knew happened with the outpouring of public support for Calley and his men?
When the American people responded as they did in defense of Calley, it was really hard, especially for Hugh. It was absurd, but you have to be willing to pay the price. Just because you tell the truth, it doesn't mean everything always come up roses. It was denial on the part of the public. Hell, I didn't want to believe it, either, but I had no choice because I saw it.

Does it worry you that it was, and remains, in our capacity to excuse or rationalize an atrocity like My Lai committed by Americans?
I think it is deception, and that remains constant today. If you are an American who thinks all of our foreign policy and actions over the years is as pure as the driven snow, well that is just not reality. It has turned me into a cynic philosopher. We are inundated with information but we are not very well informed. People should realize that when atrocities are committed like this and covered up, it degrades us all.

Were you vilified or the target of death threats the way Hugh Thompson was?
Since Hugh's death, I have become the recipient of some of the hate mail he used to get. I have come to understand him more now than I did when he was here. I now know why he wanted me to come with him to events. We've been accused of many things, of being traitors. It can be disturbing. But one of things the most infuriating is being called a whistleblower, as if we went and ratted someone out. That is completely false, there was no backstabbing going on—we were right in their face at My Lai, we were ready to confront those people then and there. And we did, the best we could.

You are not comfortable with being called a hero, either?
We never thought we were heroes. That is what other people say. I know who I am, I'm no hero, I was scared shitless most of the time. When it was all happening, the feeling I had was, if this is how I'm going to die, I'm OK with it. It was so blatantly wrong what they were doing, we had no choice, we had to do what we did.

What about those who didn't stand up to evil in their midst?
I've tried to put myself in their position, tried to empathize. What would I have done if I were a man on the ground? There was a guy at the ditch with Calley, shooting people not yet dead. He threw his weapon down and said he wasn't going to do it. Calley pointed his weapon at him and threatened him with a court-martial. This fella stood up and said: "Fuck you. Court-martial me," and he left his weapon and walked away. You've got to love this guy.

On a trip back to My Lai in 2008, Larry Colburn embraces Do Hoa, the boy he helped rescue from a ditch in 1968, and his family. (copyright Michael Bilton)

So, what do you make of Calley's "apology" last year?
Well, it wasn't really an apology, was it? He just lateraled the ball to Medina. I imagine he wants to get right with God; he's not a young guy anymore. Interestingly, there are those toying with the idea of inviting him to make the trip back to My Lai to ask for the people there for forgiveness. Every time I've been back there, the survivors ask me, "Why don't the men who committed the atrocities come back and ask for forgiveness so that we might forgive them." They're Buddhists you know, they can forgive, put it behind them and carry on. That's what they want to do.

You've been back a few times?
Hugh and I went in 1998 with 60 Minutes, just after we were given the Soldiers Medal. You can imagine the emotions that surfaced. Hugh struggled, but you see the people who survived are still in the same village, doing what they do. It is amazing to see the strength of the human spirit. In 2001 we went back and were reunited with the boy in the ditch. I went back in 2008 for the 40th anniversary.

Did the boy have a recollection of March 16, 1968?
At the time, I figured he was 3 or 4 years old, he was tiny. But it turns out he was 8. He is still tiny, but he remembers everything. Hugh and I were skeptical in '01, so we asked him a lot of questions and he told us things only he could have known. He remembered Glenn picking him up, seeing me in the ditch. He remembered how Glenn would put him down and pick him back up as he checked on other victims in the ditch. Only he would have known that. And it turned out, after we dropped him off with the nun at the hospital, he didn't stay 24 hours. At 8 years old, he made his way about 10 miles through the jungle by himself to the village. He had to make sure his mother, brother and sister, killed in the ditch, were buried properly.

You saw him again in 2008?
When we first saw him in 2001, he said all he wanted was to get out of Ho Chi Minh City where he worked in a factory at low wages, and get back to village and find a wife. When I arrived at My Lai in 2008, no one knew where he was. They tried to make arrangements to get him there, but couldn't find him. Then, as I was in this crowd, I turned around and there he was—with his beautiful wife and new baby boy. It was like he dropped out of the sky. That's what keeps me going.

What drove you to create the Hugh Thompson Foundation?
I thought that from a historical perspective, something needed to be in place so that when I'm gone, what Hugh did at My Lai won't just fade into obscurity. People need to know who Hugh Thompson was, what he did and why he did it. We also want to carry on Hugh's passionate advocacy for all veterans, not just Vietnam vets. He retired as a VA counselor in Louisiana. He knew the importance of getting people who are struggling the attention they need so they can transition back into civilian life and deal with problems, be they physical or emotional.

And you want to instill the spirit of Thompson in others.
We want to recognize people in the military and all walks of life who really make difficult decisions the way Hugh did. We are developing the concept of a Hugh Thompson Medallion to do that.

The My Lai story and Hugh Thompson's role in it is really important, but do you find most people are unaware of it?
Even though the military has admitted to the massacre, many people are not capable of acknowledging and processing that information. It is denial, a refusal to believe our young men could run amok the way they did. Likewise, what Hugh did has been ignored or glossed over in history texts, much the same way the incident has been.

You and Hugh had the opportunity to tell your stories to young military officers.
I have accompanied Hugh when he has spoken at West Point, the Naval and Air Force Academies, to the Red Cross, in Norway, Australia and elsewhere. He has had an impact on many young minds in the military. But I still don't think the topic really gets the exposure it really needs.

How do you think your story, of an event now long in the past, can make a difference?
Whenever I felt discouraged about things, Hugh would remind me that if we get through to just one person, it's worth it. That one person will go on to tell 10 other people. After Hugh died, I was invited to Annapolis to speak one more time. One of the instructors told me a story that he wished Hugh could hear. Two young infantrymen in Iraq came upon a situation where a number of civilians were questionable and the men weren't sure whether to engage or not. In the midst of it, they had a conversation like this: "Remember those old guys from Vietnam and what they told us back at Annapolis?"

Anyway, they remembered our story about My Lai, and instead of just lighting up a target, they took the time to analyze and study the situation. And it turned out it was a good thing that they did. Innocent people didn't die that day They didn't just fly off the handle and engage a target that was borderline. If Hugh knew that, it would have made everything he went through worthwhile for him. He's saved lives again.

How do you intend to spread the word about the foundation?
I hope to take as many speaking engagements as I can. I have a few lined up at some universities this year. I'm giving interviews and working with students. We hope to link up with other organizations and grow some legs.

You must have had some post-traumatic stress after your experience in Vietnam.
I'm Irish so I'm to suffer. But I've had my episodes. You know, you think everybody feels you and you can ignore your own symptoms. I give credit to my sister Mary, who saw my condition when I came home. She enticed me to move to east Oregon, near a ski area. If there was anything that was cleansing for me that was it. I've had PTSD issues for 42 years.

Did you get help?
When I moved to the East Coast, I stopped at a VA hospital and had a list of things I thought I should get out. I waited in the hospital waiting room for about four hours to see a psychologist. The best therapy I got was in those four hours and seeing the people who were so broken physically. When I finally got in to see the guy, he was a major, he wouldn't make eye contact as I read my list. I told him everything and he didn't know how to respond, he had no idea how to deal with it. He just said I was a prime candidate for PTSD. So he gave me prescriptions for several psychotropic drugs. Well, I took the prescriptions, ripped them up into little pieces and walked out.

You and Thompson must have been good mutual support.
We'd talk a lot and if I was stressing I could always pick up the phone and Hugh could always talk me down. He struggled too. When he had a heart attack he said he would slow down, but he didn't…

So, how did you guys feel when you got the Soldiers Medals in 1998?
Like the trials, it was forced. The military was forced after an eight-year letter writing campaign by David Egan, a professor at Clemson University, and a businessman named William Cavanaugh. They had been writing to the Pentagon for years about Hugh, totally unbeknownst to Hugh. They got some people to listen, and then there were others in the Pentagon trying to put it at the bottom of the stack. Ultimately, it was a pubic relations move, they had to give the medal. They didn't want to. At first, they only wanted to give it to Hugh at a private ceremony. Hugh said, "No, let's do it at the Wall." They said no, the weather might be bad or something. Hugh said that was OK, because that was the appropriate place. And Hugh said, "What about my crew?" They said they didn't have any intention for awards of the crew. "Well," Hugh told them, "if you just give it to me I'll take the medal, with a camera crew, to the first men's room I can find and I'll flush it down the toilet." This is a colonel he is talking to. "Oh, no, Mr. Thompson, let me see what we can do," he said. It went on like that for another year and half until finally they agreed to award medals to all of us.

Were you glad you got it?
If it's not sincere, it doesn't mean anything. It was a dime short and day late for Hugh, 30 years after the fact—after causing him grief—then they're going to call him a hero? I have mine put away somewhere, but I think Hugh threw his away one night.

Many fellow GIs still don't think you did the right thing?
There are those hardcore people who do still say we shouldn't have told the truth, that we should have covered for those guys in the field; that we didn't know what it was like on the ground. Sorry that's not what we did and I don't care what they think of me. We loved those guys in the field. Our purpose for being there was to protect them. If people have some confusion about that, that's their problem. It's like the line from the movie No Country for Old Men when the Vietnam veteran played by Josh Brolin, who responds to another guy who introduced himself and says he was "in 'Nam" too: "Oh, you were in Vietnam too. What's that make you, my buddy?" So, just because guys served in the same theater doesn't necessarily mean we are all that close.

Ever reflect about how you are part of an event of such historical significance?
I'll always know that we did was morally right, we did what we could to help people who could not defend themselves. I think that is probably what has helped me get through it all. As far as a place in history, that's not something I dwell on. I'm a garden-variety human being and that's all there is to it. I was always comfortable as the sidekick and enjoyed the time with Hugh. Now that the dynamics have changed with Hugh passing, I understand now how difficult it was for him, carrying it around in his gut, alone.

For more information about the Hugh Thompson Foundation, visit www.designaire.com/HughThompson